The  $  ™"£dition 
much  E  nlaracd 


THE 

POEMS  AND  AMYNTAS 

OF 

THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


EDITED    BY 

JOHN  JAY  PARRY,  PH.D. 


NEW  HAV.EN:  YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

LONDON:  HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

MDCCCCXVII 


Copyright,  1917 
BY  YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 


First  published,  February  1917 


PREFACE 

IT  seems  now  as  though  the  prediction  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  editors  of  the  Clievelandi  ^indicia 
that  Randolph  would  "lie  embalmed  in  his  own  native 
wax"  had  indeed  come  true.  In  general  when  the 
public  has  seen  fit  to  consign  a  writer  to  oblivion  it  is 
wisest  not  to  dispute  its  sentence.  Yet  in  the  present 
instance  I  feel  that  the  judgment  of  his  contemporaries, 
rather  than  that  of  the  present  day,  is  the  correct 
one,  and  that  Randolph  is  deserving  of  a  much  larger 
audience  than  he  now  has. 

Wholly  aside  from  the  fact  that  poetry,  particularly 
old-fashioned  poetry,  no  longer  appeals  to  the  general 
reader,  there  are  several  reasons  for  the  neglect  into 
which  the  works  of  Randolph  have  fallen.  One  is  that 
after  his  death  an  admiring  brother  published  what- 
ever of  his  he  could  find,  burying  the  honey  in  the  wax 
and  making  no  distinction  between  his  early  school 
exercises  and  his  later  poems.  Because  of  this  the 
juvenile  efforts  of  the  school-boy  are  often  condemned 
as  though  they  were  the  work  of  his  mature  age. 
Another  fact  which  has  kept  him  from  being  better 
known  is  that  copies  of  his  works  are  now  hard  to 
secure;  one  must  read  him  either  in  the  rare  early  edi- 
tions, or  in  the  astoundingly  inaccurate  reprint  of  W. 
C.  Hazlitt  which  is  itself  long  out  of  print.  It  is  to  do 
away  with  the  difficulty  of  securing  a  text  that  this 
volume,  containing  about  one  third  of  Randolph's 
extant  works,  has  been  prepared. 

With  the  example  of  Hazlitt  before  me  I  have  possi- 


vi  PREFACE 

bly,  in  trying  to  avoid  his  errors,  gone  too  far  in  the 
opposite  direction.  When  one  begins  to  correct  and 
amend  it  is  difficult  to  know  where  to  stop,  and  the 
final  result  is  apt  to  be  that  the  editor  quite  eclipses 
the  author.  For  this  reason  I  have  not  ventured  to 
make  any  changes  of  my  own  in  the  original  texts. 
This  is  not  really  such  an  obstacle  as  it  might  at  first 
appear,  since  most  of  those  who  use  this  book  will 
undoubtedly  be  persons  familiar  with  seventeenth  cen- 
tury literature  and  able  to  read  the  early  texts  with- 
out difficulty.  For  such  persons  the  old  spelling  and 
punctuation,  irregular  as  they  are,  have  a  certain 
charm;  furthermore  these  persons  may  be  sure  that 
they  are  not,  as  so  often  happens,  being  led  astray  by 
some  error  in  judgment  on  the  part  of  the  editor  when, 
if  left  to  themselves,  they  could  find  a  way  out  of  the 
difficulty. 

In  editing  a  volume  of  this  kind  one  receives  assist- 
ance from  so  many  sources  that  it  is  manifestly  impos- 
sible to  acknowledge  them  all.  In  particular  however 
I  wish  to  express  my  thanks  to  Professor  William  Lyon 
Phelps  of  Yale  who  first  suggested  the  subject  to  me 
and  who  has  aided  me  throughout  the  work;  to  Pro- 
fessor Brooke  and  Professor  Berdan,  also  of  Yale,  for 
valuable  assistance;  to  the  staff  of  the  Yale  Library 
for  innumerable  kindnesses;  and  to  the  librarians  of 
the  British  Museum,  the  Bodleian,  and  the  Victoria 
and  Albert  Museum  for  the  generosity  with  which 
they  extended  to  me  every  facility  for  consulting  the 

manuscripts  and  early  editions. 

J.  J-  P- 
ROME,  N.Y. 
January,  1917. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION 

PAGE 

I.  THE  RANDOLPH  FAMILY i 

II.  THE  LIFE  OF  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 6 

III.  THE  CHARACTER  OF  HIS  WRITINGS 21 

IV.  OTHER  MEMBERS  OF  THE  RANDOLPH  FAMILY    ....  26 
V.  THE  AMYNTAS: 

(a)  History 30 

(b)  Sources      31 

(r)  The  Fickle  Shepherdess 34 

VI.  THE  TEXT      36 

VII.   BIBLIOGRAPHY 39 

VERSES  PREFIXED  TO  THE  1638  VOLUME 

By  Ro.  Randolph.    M.A.  Student  of  C.  Church 47 

Ro.  Randolph,    ex  JEde  Christi 49 

I.  T.  A.  M 50 

Tho.  Terrent.    M.A.  ex  ^Ede  Christi 51 

Anonymous 51 

R.  Bride-oake.    A.M.  No.  Coll 54 

Ed.  Gayton.     M.A.  loan 54 

G.  W.    Joan 55 

los.  Howe.  Trin.  Coll.  Oxon 55 

Owen  Feltham,  Gent 56 

R.  Gostelow.     Mr.  A.  Oxon 59 

Ric.  West.  Bac.  of  Arts,  and  Student  of  Chr.  Church.   .    .  60 

POEMS  IN  THE  1638  VOLUME 

On  the  inestimable  content  he  inioyes  in  the  muses     ....  67 

In  Anguem,  qui  Lycorin  dormientem  amplexus  est 73 

A  Complaint  against  Cupid  that  he  never  made  him  in  Love.  78 
A  gratulatory  to  Mr  Ben  Johnson  for  his  adopting  of  him  to 

be  his  Son 84 

In  Lesbiam,  &  Histrionem      86 

De  Histrice.     Ex  Claudiano , 88 

vii 


viii  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

In  Archimedis  Sphaeram  ex  Claudiano 90 

De  Magnete.     Ex  Claudiano 91 

De  Sene  Veronensi.     Ex  Claudiano 94 

The  second  Epod:  of  Horace  translated      95 

An  Elegie  upon  the  Lady  Venetia  Digby 97 

An  Epitaph  upon  Mre  I.  T 99 

An  Epithalamium 100 

An  Epitaph  upon  his  honour'd  friend  Mr  Warre 102 

Vpon  the  losse  of  his  little  finger 103 

On  the  Passion  of  Christ 104 

Necessary  Observations 104 

A  Platonick  Elegie 113 

An  Apologie  for  his  false  Prediction  that  his  Aunt  Lane  would 

be  deliver'd  of  a  Sonne 115 

An  Epithalamium  to  Mr  F.  H 119 

To  Mr  Feltham  on  his  booke  of  Resolves 123 

In  Natalem  Augustissimi  Principis  Caroli 128 

Vpon  his  Picture 128 

An  Ode  to  Mr  Anthony  Stafford  to  hasten  him    into    the 

country 129 

An  answer  to  Mr  Ben  lohnson's  Ode,  to  perswade  him  not  to 

leave  the  stage 132 

A  Dialogue.    Thirsis.    Lalage 134 

A  Dialogue  betwixt  a  Nymph  and  a  Shepheard 136 

A  Pastorall  Ode 137 

A  Song 138 

The  Song  of  Discord 138 

To  one  Overhearing  his  private  discourse 139 

Epigram:  47  ex  decimo  Libro  Martialis 139 

To  the  Vertuous  and  noble  Lady,  the  Lady  Cotton 140 

An  Elegie  on  the  death  of  that  Renowned  and  Noble  Knight 

Sir  Rowland  Cotton  of  Bellaport  in  Shropshire 140 

Ausonii  Epigram  38 144 

On  the  Death  of  a  Nightingale 145 

Vpon  the  report  of  the  King  of  Swedens  Death 145 

On  Sr  Robert  Cotton  the  Antiquary 147 

An  Elegie 147 

'H  'Hv<f>vovs  ij  -iroltiffa  1)  IMVIKOV:  Arist 149 

Ad  Amicum  Litigantem 149 

In  Corydonem  &  Corinnam 150 

To  one  admiring  her  selfe  in  a  Looking-Glasse 151 

An  Eglogue  occasion'd  by  two  Doctors  disputing  upon  predes- 
tination    152 

An  Eglogue  to  Mr  lohnson 156 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  ix 

A  Pastorall  Courtship 163 

Vpon  a  very  deformed  Gentlewoman,  but  of  a  voice  incompar- 
ably sweet 17° 

The  milk-maids  Epithalamium l72 

An  Eglogue  on  the  noble  Assemblies  revived  on  Cotswold  Hills 

by  M.  Robert  Dover 174 

The  Song  of  Orpheus 181 

A  Maske  for  Lydia 182 

A  parley  with  his  empty  Purse      183 

Vpon  Love  fondly  refus'd  for  Conscience  sake 185 


POEMS  NOT  IN  THE  1638  EDITION  BUT  INCLUDED  IN 
THE  1640  AND  SUBSEQUENT  EDITIONS 

On  Importunate  Dunnes 191 

A  Character.     Aulico-Politico-Academico 194 

On  the  losse  of  his  Finger 196 

A  paraneticon  to  the  truly  noble  Gentleman  M.  Endymion 

Porter 197 

To  a  painted  Mistresse 198 

To  his  well  Timbred  Mistresse 199 

On  six  Maids  bathing  themselves  in  a  River 200 

The  Wedding  Morne 202 

In  praise  of  Woemen  in  Generall 203 

To  M.  I.  S.  on  his  Gratefull  Servant 205 


POEMS  (MORE  OR  LESS  DOUBTFULL)  NOT  IN  ANY  OF  THE 
COLLECTED  EDITIONS  BUT  ADDED  FROM  VARIOUS 
SOURCES 

The  Towns-mens  Petition  of  Cambridge 209 

On  the  Fall  of  the  Mitre  Tavern  in  Cambridge 213 

Annagram.     Vertue  alone  thy  Blisse 216 

An  Epithalamium 217 

On  a  maideof  honour  seen  by  a  scollar  in  sommerset  garden.    .  218 

Epigram 219 

[To  Richard  Weston]     219 

A  letter  to  his  Mistresse      219 

The  Character  of  a  Perfect  Woman      220 

Ad  Amicam 224 

[On  the  Book  Fish] 224 

On  Mr  parson  Organist  of  Westminster  Abbye 224 

[On  William  Laurence] 225 


x  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Randolph  his  answer  to  some  merry  companion 225 

[Randolph's  answer  to  the  "Sons  of  Ben"] 225 

Praeludium 226 

[The  City  of  London] 231 

AMYNTAS 233 

NOTES: 

To  the  Poems 355 

Amyntas 371 


APPENDIX 375 

INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 377 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Portrait  of  Thomas  Randolph  ....   frontispiece 
The  Birthplace  of  Thomas  Randolph    facing  page        5 

Genealogical  Chart  of  the  Randolph 

Family page       25 

Facsimile  Title-page  of  the  1638 
Edition  (Poems  with  the  Muses 
Looking  Glasse  and  Amyntas)  .  .  .  page  65 

Facsimile  Title-page  of  the  1638 
Edition  (Amyntas  or  the  Im- 
possible Dowry) page  233 


THOMAS    RANDOLPH 

INTRODUCTION 

I.  THE  RANDOLPH  FAMILY 

No  one  could  be  less  vain  of  his  ancestry  than  was 
the  poet  Thomas  Randolph,  yet  he  was  descended  from 
one  of  the  oldest  families  in  the  kingdom,  was  entitled 
to  display  coat-armor  which  had  been  recognized  for 
more  than  three  hundred  years,  and  was  admitted 
by  his  contemporaries  to  be  a  "gentleman,"  a  term 
which  meant  much  more  in  those  days  than  it  does 
at  present. 

There  are  Randolfs  mentioned  in  England  as  early 
as  the  Domesday  Book,  but  aside  from  the  similarity 
of  the  name  there  is  nothing  to  connect  them  with 
the  poet.  The  first  of  the  name  who  can,  with  any 
degree  of  probability,  be  assumed  to  be  of  his  family 
are  to  be  found  in  Wiltshire  and  Hampshire  about  the 
beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century.  In  the  time  of 
Edward  I  we  find  mentioned  among  the  knights  of 
Hampshire  one  "Johannes  Randolph,"  whose  arms, 
as  given  by  Tristram  Risdon,  were,  "Gules,  on  a  cross 
argent,  five  mullets  sable,"  and  in  a  Parliamentary  roll 
of  arms,1  undated  but  evidently  of  the  early  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  we  find  a  "Sire  John  Randolf  " 

1  Genealogist,  New  Series,  n,  175. 

I 


2  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

of  Wiltshire  and  Hampshire  whose  arms  were,  "De 
goules  a  vne  Crois  de  argent  e  V  moles  de  sable  en  la 
crois."  These  are  the  same  arms  that  in  later  times 
were  used  by  a  nephew  of  the  poet,  Col.  William  Ran- 
dolph, the  founder  of  the  Virginia  branch  of  the  family. 

This  Sir  John  Randolph  must  have  been  a  man  of 
considerable  importance  in  his  day,  for  among  the 
papers  preserved  in  the  British  Record  Office  are  a 
number  which  refer  to  him.  In  the  year  1297  he  and 
Joan  his  wife  (she  was  a  daughter  of  John  de  Acton) 
exchanged  Chaddenwick  in  Wiltshire  for  the  manor  of 
Ashe  in  the  hundred  of  Overton,  Hampshire.  Later 
they  acquired  other  lands  in  Hampshire  and  elsewhere. 
Sir  John  was  made  Keeper  of  the  New  Forest  and  held 
for  the  king  the  manor  and  castle  of  Christ  Church  de 
Twynham,  and  later  the  royal  castle  of  Portchester. 
He  also  served  for  many  years  as  Justice  in  Eyre  for 
Common  Pleas,  his  circuits  covering,  at  various  times, 
much  of  the  southern  and  western  part  of  England. 
He  died  some  time  between  1334  and  1337. 

We  find  mention  of  but  one  son,  Robert,  but  it  seems 
very  probable  that  the  William  Randolf  who  is  men- 
tioned by  Fuller  as  Sheriff  of  Wiltshire  in  1333  and 
Knight  of  the  Shire,  was,  if  not  a  son,  at  least  some  near 
relative  of  Sir  John.  He  served  as  collector  of  the  king's 
revenues  for  Wiltshire,  was  Keeper  of  the  royal  forest 
and  park  of  Claryndon,  and  in  1356  was  given  a  com- 
mission of  Oyer  and  Terminer  for  Wiltshire.  He  held 
lands  in  both  Wiltshire  and  Hampshire,  among  them 
being  the  manor  of  Bereford  St.  Martin.  He  died  some 
time  before  1369. 

Another  person  who  almost  certainly  belonged  to 
this  particular  family  is  the  Thomas  Randolph  of  Bere- 


INTRODUCTION  3 

ford  who,  in  consideration  of  having  gone  on  the  king's 
service  over  seas,  was  in  1340  given  a  pardon  for  killing 
William  Nicol  of  Bockebrok.  We  find  other  Randolfs 
and  Randolphs  at  this  time,  but  there  is  nothing  more 
than  the  name  to  connect  them  with  this  particular 
family.1 

When  next  we  hear  of  the  family  it  has  split  into  two 
(or  more)  branches,  of  which  one,  the  Randolphs  of 
Wilts,  bore  the  ancient  arms  of  Sir  John,  while  the 
Randolphs  of  Kent  bore  the  same,  except  that  in  their 
coat  the  mullets  were  pierced.2  This  division  of  the 
family  had  evidently  taken  place  before  the  year  1433, 
for  under  that  date  Fuller  mentions  a  William  Randolf 
of  Tunbridge  among  the  gentry  of  Kent.  It  is  to  this 
branch  of  the  family  that  Thomas  Randolph,  the 
ambassador  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  belonged.3  The  arms 
of  the  Wiltshire  branch  of  the  family  were  "confirm'd 
by  Robert  Cooke,  Clarencieux,  the  I5th  of  March  in 
the  I3th  of  Queen  Eliz.  to  Tho.  Randolph  of  Badelismer 
in  the  County  of  Cambridge,4  Esq.;  descended  from 
the  ancient  Family  of  Sir  John  Randolph,  of  the  County 
of  Wilts,  Knight."  8  From  time  to  time  we  find  mem- 

1  The  significance  of  the  fact  that  the  names  John,  Robert,  William, 
and  Thomas,  borne  by  members  of  the  family  at  this  time,  all  reap- 
pear in  the  poet's  immediate  family  should  not  be  overlooked. 

2  Guillim,  Heraldry,  105;   Edmondson,  Heraldry. 

3  The  claim  has  sometimes  been  made  (see  The  General  Armory 
of  Sir  John  Bernard  Burke)  that  the  Randolphs  of  Kent  are  descended 
from  the  prominent  Scottish  family  of  that  name:   this  seems  amply 
disproved  by  the  fact  that  we  find  Randolphs  in  England  as  early  as 
we  do  in  Scotland,  and  that  the  arms  of  the  Kent  family  resemble 
very  closely  those  of  these  English  Randolphs  and  are  not  at  all  like 
those  of  the  Scottish  house. 

4  It  is  possible  that  this  is  an  error  for  Badlesmere  in  Kent. 
'  Guillim,  Heraldry,  105. 


4  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

bers  of  the  family  in  various  other  parts  of  England, 
but  in  the  present  connection  these  have  no  significance 
for  us. 

Although  we  may  assume  the  poet's  kinship  with 
these  earlier  Randolphs  because  it  was  claimed  by  one 
of  his  brothers  and  apparently  never  questioned,  we 
are  unable  definitely  to  trace  his  ancestry  any  further 
back  than  his  grandfather  Robert,  whom  we  find  resid- 
ing at  Hams  (now  Hamsey),  near  Lewis,  in  county  Sus- 
sex. He  is  not  mentioned  in  any  of  the  pedigrees  of 
the  Kent  Randolphs  and  it  seems  quite  certain  that 
he  was  of  the  other  branch  of  the  family.  This  Rob- 
ert Randolph  who  was  "a  surveyor  of  land  or  land 
measurer,"  l  married  Rose,  the  daughter  and  co-heiress 
of  Thomas  Roberts,  who  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Rob- 
erts of  Elford  in  Hawkhurst,  county  Kent.2  Like  her 
husband  she  was  of  gentle  birth;  Berry  gives  the 
Roberts  arms  as  "  Per  pale  gules  and  azure,  three  pheons 
or,"  and  these  arms  are  recognized  and  credited  to 
Roberts  of  Canterbury  in  the  Visitation  of  Kent  made 
in  1663. 

The  only  child  of  this  union  of  whom  we  find  any  men- 
tion was  a  son,  William,  born  in  1572.  He  was  very 
wild  in  his  youth  and  because  of  this  his  father  cut  him 
off  in  his  will  with  only  a  groat  or  three  pence.  When 
the  high-spirited  young  man  received  this  legacy  he 
nailed  it  to  the  post  of  his  father's  door  and  set  out  to 
shift  for  himself.3  He  became  steward  to  Sir  George 

1  This  seems  to  be  Aubrey's  meaning,  although  it  is  not  quite 
clear  to  whom  the  statement  refers. 

1  Wm.  Berry,  Kent,  181;   H.  F.  Waters,  Gleanings,  925. 

*  This  story  rests  solely  on  the  authority  of  Aubrey  and  must  be 
accepted  with  a  certain  amount  of  caution. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

Goring  in  Sussex,  and  later  to  Edward  Lord  Zouche,1 
settling  at  Houghton  Parva  or  Little  Houghton  in 
the  county  of  Northampton.  His  financial  resources 
must  have  been  very  limited,  for  two  of  his  sons  were 
later  admitted  to  Westminster  School  as  Queens 
Scholars,  and  no  one  was  eligible  for  these  scholarships 
whose  father  had  an  income  of  ten  pounds  or  more 
per  year. 

William  Randolph  married  Elizabeth,  the  daughter 
of  Thomas  Smith  of  Newnham  near  Daventry  in  the 
county  of  Northampton.  Baker2  gives  a  picture  of 
the  Smith  house  "which  stands  on  a  bank  at  the  end 
of  the  lane  leading  to  Dodford,"  and  to  judge  from 
this  picture  the  Smiths  must  have  been  people  of  con- 
siderable importance,  although  apparently  not  gentle- 
folk. This  wife,  who  bore  him  three  sons  and  one 
daughter,  seems  to  have  died  some  time  after  1613, 
for  a  few  years  later  we  find  him  married  again,  this 
time  to  Dorothy,  the  daughter  of  Richard  Lane  of 
Curteenhall,  Gent,  and  the  sister  of  the  Sir  Richard 
Lane,  who  became  Lord  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  under 
Charles  I.  She  was  the  widow  of  Thomas  West  of 
Cotton  End  near  Northampton,  and  the  mother  of  the 
Richard  West,  S.T.D.,  who  wrote  the  poem,  "To  the 
pious  Memory  of  my  dear  Brother-in-law,  Mr.  Thomas 
Randolph,"  prefixed  to  the  collected  editions  of  Ran- 
dolph's Poems.  By  his  second  marriage  William  Ran- 
dolph became  the  father  of  seven  more  children,  four 
sons  and  three  daughters.  He  died  in  1660. 

1  There  is  in  the  Record  Office  a  warrant  (dated  Sept.  13,  1619) 
from  Lord  Zouche  to  Master  "  Randoll,"  authorizing  him  to  hold  court 
in  his  manor  of  Chowton,  county  Somerset,  and  to  receive  the  rents 
there. 

2  Northamptonshire,  i,  261. 


6  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

II.  THE  LIFE  OF  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Thomas,  the  oldest  child  l  of  William  Randolph  and 
his  first  wife  Elizabeth  was  born  at  Newnham2  in  the 
house  of  his  maternal  grandfather  on  the  fifteenth 
of  June,  1 605.'  Early  in  life  he  began  to  exhibit  a 
leaning  toward  poetry,  and  at  the  age  of  nine  he  wrote 
the  History  of  our  Saviour  s  Incarnation  in  English  verse; 
this  was  never  printed  and  no  copy  of  it  is  known  to 
be  extant,  but  the  original,  in  the  young  poet's  own 
handwriting,  was  long  preserved  as  a  rarity  by  his 
brother  John.  We  have  the  word  of  his  "brother-in- 
law"  Richard  West  that  some  of  the  verses  included  in 
the  collected  editions  of  the  poems  were  written  at  a 
not  very  much  more  mature  age,  and  that  even  in 
extreme  youth  "books  were  his  toys."  4 

1  The  modern  accounts  all  follow  Baker,  who  says  he  was  the  second 
•son;    both  Aubrey  and   the  1682  Visitation  of  Northamptonshire, 
however,  say  that  he  was  the  oldest  child.     Aubrey  was  often  far 
from  accurate,  but  in  this  case  he  got  his  facts  from  Randolph's 
'brother  John  and  had   no   reason  for   falsifying  them;    he  sent  the 
'letter  containing  them  to  Wood  for  his  Athenae.    The  Visitation  was 
made  during  the  lifetime  of  the  poet's  brother  William,  and  probably, 
in  accordance  with  the  usual  custom,  was  from  facts  furnished  by  some 
.member  of  the  family. 

2  Winstanley,  followed  by  Langbaine,  Motley  and  others,  says 
that  he  was  born  at  Houghton,  which  is  probably  a  mere  assumption 
based  upon  the  fact  that  this  was  his  father's  home;  Aubrey,  Wood, 
Baker,  and  the  1682  Visitation  give  Newnham. 

3  Baker  gives  this  as  the  date  of  his  baptism,  and  this  has  been 
generally  accepted;    Kottas  says  that  the  baptism  is  recorded  in  the 
parish  register  of  Newnham  under  that  date.     I  believe  this  to  be 
merely  a  graphic  paraphrase  of  Baker's  statement  and  do  not  think 
that  he  took  the  trouble  to  investigate  for  himself.     I  have  been 
unable  to  learn  whether  or  not  the  register  for  that  date  is  still  pre- 
served.    Aubrey,  Wood,  and  the  Visitation  of  1682  all  give  June 

as  the  date  of  his  birth. 

4  See  his  verses  prefixed  to  the  editions  of  the  Poems. 


INTRODUCTION  7 

In  order  to  give  to  this  promising  youth  all  the  ad- 
vantages possible,  his  father  sent  him  to  the  College  of 
St.  Peter,  or,  as  it  is  more  generally  known,  Westminster 
School,  where  he  secured  one  of  the  scholarships  estab- 
lished by  Queen  Elizabeth  when  she  reorganized  the 
school.  We  do  not  know  exactly  when  he  entered,  but 
it  was  very  likely  somewhere  about  1618,  as  the  usual 
period  at  the  school  was  four  or  five  years  and  Randolph 
left  it  in  1623. l 

At  the  time  when  Randolph  entered  the  school  the 
headmaster  was  John  Wilson,2  a  man  remarkable  for 
"a  faculty  more  than  ordinary  in  instructing  youth." 
The  second  master,  to  whom  fell  the  task  of  instructing 
the  third  and  fourth  forms,  and  who  must  therefore 
have  had  charge  of  young  Randolph  during  at  least 
part  of  his  career  at  the  school,  was  Thomas  Hardinge. 
Some  of  the  students  who  were  at  the  school  at  this 
time,  and  with  whom  Randolph  must  have  been  well 
acquainted,  were  William  Hemmings,  the  son  of  the 
Shakespearian  actor,  James  Duport,  who  later  became 
eminent  as  a  Greek  Scholar,  and  John  Donne  (son  of 
the  Dean  of  St.  Paul's),  Samuel  Rutter,  and  William 
Cartwright,  the  poets.3 

1  One  who  is  at  all  familiar  with  Kottas'  method  will  hesitate  to 
accept  even  so  positive  a  statement  of  his  as  the  one  that  Randolph 
entered  the  school  in  his  twelfth  year,  when  such  statement  is  not 
backed  up  by  mention  of  his  authorities.  It  is  probably  a  good  guess, 
nothing  more;  Kottas  always  gives  his  conjectures  as  if  they  were 
proven  facts. 

1  Kottas'  statement  that  Camden  was  headmaster  of  Westmin- 
ster School  until  his  death  in  1623  hardly  requires  an  elaborate 
refutation. 

3  The  Alumni  Westmonasterienses  gives  the  names  of  all  the 
Queens  Scholars,  with  the  dates  when  they  were  elected  to  the 
universities;  those  who  desire  further  information  about  Randolph's 
companions  at  the  school  are  referred  to  this  work. 


8  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

In  1622  Wilson  resigned  his  headmastership  and  was 
succeeded  in  the  position  by  Lambert  Osbolston,  who 
"bore  the  character  of  a  learned  man,  and  was  an  ex- 
cellent master,  and  very  fortunate  in  breeding  up  many 
wits."  Although  Randolph  left  the  school  only  a 
year  later,  and  so  cannot  have  been  for  very  long  under 
Osbolston's  care,  he  has  left  us  a  sincere  although  rather 
effusive  tribute  to  the  debt  he  owed  his  eld  master.1 
Doubtless  the  character  of  the  men  under  whom  he 
studied  and  of  the  course  of  study  which  he  pursued  in 
this  school  did  have  considerable  influence  in  molding 
his  nature. 

At  Westminster  the  chief  emphasis  was  at  this  time 
placed  upon  acquiring  a  thorough  acquaintance  with 
the  Greek  and  Latin  authors,  and  upon  an  ability  to 
write  both  prose  and  verse  in  these  two  languages. 
Geography  also  was  taught  to  the  boys,  and  apparently 
Hebrew  as  well.2  Furthermore,  they  were  required  at 
frequent  intervals  to  try  their  skill  in  the  composition 
of  English  verses,  and  we  learn  from  one  of  his  school- 
fellows that  Randolph  performed  these  tasks  very 
well,  and  that  he  wrote  with  remarkable  facility.3 
On  Sunday  the  boys  were  given  the  task  of  putting 
into  English  verse  the  sermon  of  the  morning  or  else 
the  gospel  and  epistle  of  the  day,  and  it  is  doubtless 
to  this  custom  that  we  owe  the  Necessary  Observa- 

1  See  the  Latin  poem  prefixed  to  the  Jealous  Lovers. 

2  Hebrew  was  prescribed  by  the  statutes  drawn  up  in  the  time  of 
Elizabeth  for  the  use  of  the  school  (F.  H.  Forshall,  Westminster  School, 
412)  and  in  1661  Evelyn  mentions  both  Hebrew  and  Arabic  among 
the  languages  in  which  the  boys  leaving  for  the  university  were  able 
to  compose  (ibid.  418).     Forshall  gives  a  rather  full  account  of  the 
school  life  and  studies  at  about  this  period. 

3  James  Duport,  Musa  Subseciva,  269-70. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

tions,  which  are  certainly  among  Randolph's  youth- 
ful work;  the  translations  from  the  Latin  poets  were 
also,  in  all  probability,  school  exercises  of  this 
period. 

Not  only  did  Queen  Elizabeth  establish  scholarships 
at  the  school  itself,  but  she  also  caused  a  number 
of  those  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and  Christ 
Church,  Oxford,  to  be  set  aside  each  year  exclusively 
for  Westminster  boys.  These  scholarships  were 
awarded  on  the  basis  of  a  competitive  examination 
held  each  year  in  Rogation  Week.  Among  those  who 
took  this  examination  in  the  year  1623  was  young  Ran- 
dolph, who  secured  the  highest  rating  of  any  of  the 
candidates.  He  was  accordingly  elected  to  Trinity 
College,  and  was  given  the  title  of  "Captain  of  the 
Election."  (The  Captain  is  not  now  necessarily  the 
candidate  with  the  highest  stand.)  The  name  THO. 
RANDOLPH  may  still  be  read  on  the  tablets  in  the  school 
dormitory  which  record  the  names  of  the  captains  for 
each  year. 

Randolph  did  not  matriculate  at  Cambridge  for  over 
a  year  after  his  election,  yet  it  is  quite  certain  that  he 
entered  the  university  before  the  date  given  in  the  col- 
lege register.  (Of  the  four  others  elected  to  Cambridge 
with  him,  the  three  whom  I  have  been  able  to  trace  all 
matriculated  the  year  before  he  did,  yet  all  secured 
their  scholarships  at  the  same  time  and  two  of  them 
took  both  the  B.A.  and  M.A.  degrees  with  him;  the 
third  was  not  graduated.)  x  He  was  entered  on  the 

1  That  it  was  not  necessary  at  this  time  to  matriculate  as  soon  as 
one  entered  the  university  is  shown  by  the  case  of  Heath,  who  was 
elected  to  Trinity  from  Westminster  in  1624;  he  secured  his  fellow- 
ship in  1625  but  did  not  matriculate  until  1626,  yet  he  took  both 
degrees  in  the  usual  length  of  time  after  his  election. 


10  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

college  books  on  July  8,  1624,*  as  a  lesser  pensioner,2 
the  usual  status  of  one  whose  father  was  in  moderate 
circumstances,  for  it  implied  that  he  was  able  to  pay 
for  his  son's  board  and  education.  During  that  same 
year,  however,  he  was  given  a  scholarship  in  accordance 
with  the  terms  of  his  appointment  from  Westminster.3 
Masson,  in  his  life  of  Milton,  whose  career  at  Cam- 
bridge coincided  so  closely  with  that  of  Randolph,  has 
given  us  a  very  good  picture  of  the  general  life  at  the 
university  during  this  period.4  Of  Randolph's  part 
in  this  life  during  the  earlier  portion  of  his  course  we 
know  practically  nothing;  he  contributed  to  the  Cam- 
bridge collection  of  verses  celebrating  the  marriage  of 
Charles  and  Henrietta  Maria  in  1625  6  (probably  the 
first  of  his  poems  to  appear  in  print),  and  to  the  collec- 
tion called  forth  in  1626  by  the  death  of  Bacon.6  We 
also  know  that  he  wrote  upon  occasion  English  verses 
which  circulated  among  his  fellows  and  that  as  early 
as  1626  at  least,  he  had  acquired  the  reputation  of  a 
wit.7  In  January  1627-8,  having  fulfilled  all  the  re- 
quirements, he  was  graduated  B.A.,  his  name  standing 
eighth  on  the  list  of  bachelors.8 

1  Hazlitt  from  A.  G.  Greenhill  of  Cambridge. 
*  J.  Venn  &  J.  A.  Venn,  Book  of  Matriculations  and  Degrees. 
W.  W.  R.  Ball  &  J.  A.  Venn,  Admissions  to  Trinity  College. 

3  Admissions  to  T.  C.    These  scholarships  were  awarded  to  the 
students  as  soon  after  the  election  as  any  fell  vacant,  but  in  practi- 
cally every  case  at  this  time  they  were  not  given  until  the  student 
had  been  at  the  university  for  about  a  year. 

4  In  Fuller's  History  of  Cambridge  (1840)  there  is  a  plan  of  the  town 
as  it  was  only  a  few  years  after  Randolph  left  it. 

s  See  Bibliography,  Sec.  Ill,  No.  I,  p.  42. 

6  See  Bibliography,  Sec.  Ill,  No.  2. 

7  See  the  quotation  from  Fuller  given  on  p.  369. 

8  This  is  the  date  given  by  Hazlitt;   the  Book  of  Matric.  and  De- 
grees and  the  Admissions  to  T.  C.  give  merely  1627-8.     Kottas  gives 


INTRODUCTION  II 

That  he  was  something  more  than  a  good  fellow  and 
merry  companion  is  amply  demonstrated  by  a  letter  l 
written  on  Aug.  n,  1629,  to  Lord  Holland  the  Chan- 
cellor, by  Leonard  Mawe  the  Master  of  Trinity,  in 
which  he  recommends  to  him  "Thomas  Randolph,  B.A., 
one  of  extraordinary  parts  of  wit  and  learning,  and  so 
approved  by  the  whole  University  that  scarce  an  age 
brings  forth  a  better  or  the  like.  If  he  had  been  capable 
of  a  fellowship  at  the  last  election  the  writer  had  cer- 
tainly provided  for  him  but  not  being  so  he  begs  the  Earl 
to  procure  for  him  his  Majesties  mandatory  letter.  He 
has  no  friends  to  solicit  for  him  but  the  Bishop  of  Lin- 
coln 2  under  whom  he  was  bred  at  Westminster,  and 
the  writer  under  whom  he  has  lived  for  four  years  in 
Trinity  College."  We  do  not  know  whether  the  king 
did  interest  himself  in  the  young  man  (we  know  that 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  interfering  in  university  elec- 
tions), but  at  any  rate  Randolph  was  created  a  minor 
Fellow  on  the  22d  of  September  i629-3  In  all  prob- 
ability he  had  spent  the  intervening  time  at  the  uni- 
versity studying  for  his  M.A.  degree  in  accordance  with 
the  usual  custom.  Apparently  the  only  thing  that  he 
published  during  this  period  was  a  Latin  poem  of  four 
lines,  prefixed  to  Plumptre's  Epigrammata,*  but  two 

the  date  as  March  27,  1628.  The  truth  apparently  is  that  the 
candidates  finished  their  work  at  any  time  during  the  term,  were 
pronounced  to  be  Bachelors  of  Arts  at  the  end  of  the  term,  but 
were  allowed  to  date  their  degrees  from  the  beginning  of  it.  (Mas- 
son,  155.) 

1  Preserved  in  the  Record  Office:  Domestic  Papers,  Charles  II, 
148,  34. 

3  This  was  John  Williams,  who  later  became  Archbishop  of  York; 
he  had  been  Dean  of  Westminster  while  Randolph  was  at  the  school. 

1  Hazlitt;   Book  of  Matric.  and  Degrees. 

4  See  Bibliography,  Sec.  Ill,  No.  3. 


12  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

at  least  of  his  English  poems,  which  were  not  published 
till  later,  may  be  ascribed  to  this  year.1 

In  the  following  April  the  University  was  closed  on 
account  of  the  plague  and  did  not  open  until  November,2 
and  it  is  very  likely  that  Randolph  spent  at  least  part 
of  this  time  in  London.  To  this  period,  or  possibly  to 
a  still  earlier  date,  must  be  referred  his  introduction 
to  the  "Sons  of  Ben,"  which  certainly  did  take  place 
even  if  not  in  the  form  described  by  Winstanley; 3  Ben 
Jonson  and  Lord  Zouche  were  intimate  friends,  and  it 
is  very  likely  indeed  that  the  former  had  visited  at 
Houghton  and  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
bright  young  son  of  his  friend's  steward.  It  would 
therefore  be  very  natural  that  Randolph,  who  was  be- 
ginning to  come  into  notice  as  a  poet  and  wit,  should 
resolve  when  he  was  in  London  "to  go  see  Ben.  Johnson 
with  his  associates,  which  as  he  heard  at  a  set-time 
kept  a  Club  together  at  the  Devil-Tavern  near  Temple- 
Bar;  accordingly,  at  the  time  appointed  he  went  thither, 
but  being  unknown  to  them,  and  wanting  Money, 
which  to  an  ingenious  spirit  is  the  most  daunting  thing 
in  the  World,  he  peep'd  into  the  Room  where  they  were, 
which  being  espied  by  Ben  Johnson,  and  seeing  him  in 
a  Scholars  thred-bare  habit,  John  Bo-peep,  says  he, 
come  in,  which  accordingly  he  did,  when  immediately 
they  began  to  rime  upon  the  meanness  of  his  Clothes, 

1  On  six  Maids  bathing  themselves  in  a  River  (see  p.  366),  and  the 
Towns-mens  Petition  of  Cambridge  (see  p.  366). 

1  Commons  at  Trinity  ceased  April  30,  and  were  resumed  on  No- 
vember 20.  Cooper,  Annals,  3,  223  and  228. 

1  Much  doubt  has  been  cast  upon  the  truth  of  this  story  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  highly  fanciful,  but  I  see  no  reason  why  it  may  not 
be  substantially  correct.  The  fact  that  Randolph  had  most  probably 
already  met  Jonson  seems  to  have  been  overlooked. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

asking  him,  If  he  could  not  make  a  Verse?  and  withal 
to  call  for  his  Quart  of  Sack;  there  being  four  of  them, 
he  immediately  thus  replied, 

'I  John  Bo  peep,  to  you  four  sheep, 

With  each  one  his  good  fleece, 
If  that  you  are  willing  to  give  me  five  shilling, 
'Tis  fifteen  pence  a  piece.' 

By  Jesus,  quoth  Ben.  Johnson  (his  usual  oath),  I  believe 
this  is  my  Son  Randolph,  which  being  made  known  to 
them,  he  was  kindly  entertained  into  their  company, 
and  Ben.  Johnson  ever  after  called  him  Son." 

It  was  at  about  this  time  that  the  Aristippus  and 
the  Pedler,  which  had  already  been  acted  privately, 
probably  at  Cambridge,  were  printed.  Two  editions 
by  different  publishers  appeared  within  a  short  time 
of  each  other,1  but  neither  bore  Randolph's  name, 
and  the  authorship  seems  not  to  have  been  gener- 
ally known  for  some  time.2  Possibly  he  wrote  at 
this  time  his  answer  to  Jonson's  Ode  to  Himself,  for 
his  poem  seems  to  have  been  written  before  that 

1  John  Mariott  "entered  for  his  copy"  in  the  S.  R.  Mar.  26,  1630 
(Arber  4,  231),  and  Robert  Allot  entered  for  the  "Pedler  by  R.  Dav- 
enport" (a  minor  poet  of  the  period)  on  Apr.  8  (Arber  4,  232).     From 
a  later  entry  (July  I,  1637,  Arber  4,  387)  we  see  that  the  title  to  the 
Aristippus  rested  with  Allot,  who  had  republished  it  in  163 1  and  again 
in  1635.     It  would  seem  as  if  Harper  had  in  some  way  secured  a  copy 
of  the  play  and  proceeded  to  print  it,  and  Randolph,  learning  of  this, 
had  furnished  Allot  with  a  correct  text  and,  so  far  as  he  could,  with 
the  rights  to  it;   why  Davenport's  name  should  have  been  used  in 
the  entry  I  cannot  see,  unless  it  was  through  him  that  the  arrange- 
ments were  made. 

2  In  the  poem  by  Hemmings,  in  MS.  Ashmole  38  (mentioned  on 
p.  357)  there  is  a  reference  to  the  Aristippus  as   the  work  of  an 
unknown  writer,  not  Randolph. 


14  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

ode  was  printed  in  163 1.1  According  to  Miss  Marks2 
his  Entertainment,  the  original  version  of  the  Muses 
Looking-Glass,  was  licensed  on  Nov.  25,  1630,  having 
apparently  been  acted  in  the  previous  summer;  Sir 
Aston  Cokain  says  that  it  met  with  a  good  reception 
when  presented.3 

As  soon  as  the  university  opened  again  in  the  fall, 
he  probably  returned  to  Cambridge  and  resumed  his 
studies  there,  for  in  1631,  three  years  after  taking  his 
Bachelor's  degree,  he  was  graduated  M.A.4  Unlike  the 
B.A.  degrees,  which  were  conferred  quite  informally 
during  term  time,  the  Master's  degrees  were  awarded 
at  the  annual  commencement  held  early  in  July,  and 
it  was  at  this  time  undoubtedly  that  Randolph  took  his.5 
Some  time  during  the  same  year  (the  exact  date  is 
unknown)  he  was  incorporated  M.A.  at  Oxford,6  a 
rather  unusual  honor  for  one  who  had  so  recently  taken 
that  degree  from  his  own  university,  and  a  testimonial 

1  Tennant,  in  his  edition  of  Jonson's  New  Inne  (p.  xxv),  makes  it 
appear  certain  that  the  poem  is  an  answer  to  an  earlier  version  than 
that  printed  in  1631. 

2  English  Pastoral  Drama,  p.  167. 

3  Poems,  p.  in. 

4  Book  of  Matric.  and  Degrees.     Admissions  to  T.C. 

6  Hazlitt  is  not  at  all  clear  here,  but  he  apparently  means  that 
Randolph  became  M.A.  on  March  23,  1631-2.  This  date  does  not 
fit  in  so  well  with  the  other  facts  of  his  life,  and  besides  both  the  Book 
of  Matric.  and  Degrees  and  the  Admissions  to  T.C.  give  1631,  not 
1631-2.  In  the  case  of  his  B.A.  which  he  took  in  the  spring,  both 
of  these  books  give  1627-8.  There  is  additional  proof  that  Randolph 
took  his  degree  at  the  regular  commencement  in  1631,  for  he  acted 
as  Praevaricator  in  the  following  spring,  and  the  person  to  perform 
this  office  was  always  selected  one  year  ahead  of  time,  from  among 
those  graduating  M.A.  then.  The  person  chosen  to  act  at  the  com- 
mencement in  the  next  year  was  always  the  last  one  sworn,  although 
usually  one  of  the  first  to  be  called.  (Peacock  xxvi.) 

'  Wood,  Fasti,  i,  461. 


INTRODUCTION  15 

to  the  respect  with  which  he  was  regarded  not  only  by 
his  fellows  but  by  his  superiors  as  well. 

The  rule  requiring  every  person  who  took  the  master's 
degree  to  reside  at  the  university  for  five  years  longer 
had  long  been  a  dead  letter,  and  most  students  left 
as  soon  as  they  were  graduated,  but  Randolph,  holding 
a  fellowship  and  apparently  finding  the  life  congenial, 
remained.  During  this  year  he  contributed  some  Latin 
verses  to  the  Cambridge  volume  celebrating  the  birth 
of  Princess  Mary,1  and  also  secured  what  was  un- 
doubtedly the  greatest  literary  success  of  his  whole 
career. 

The  King  and  Queen  had  announced  their  intention 
of  paying  a  visit  to  the  University,  and  great  prepara- 
tions were  made  for  celebrating  so  important  an  event, 
and  for  making  their  stay  pleasant.  Among  the  other 
festivities  it  was  decided  that  a  play  should  be  pre- 
sented, a  form  of  entertainment  common  at  the  uni- 
versities, and  upon  this  occasion,  perhaps  out  of 
deference  to  the  distinguished  guests,  the  play  was  to 
be  in  English.  Two  persons  prepared  and  submitted 
comedies  for  presentation:  Peter  Hausted  of  Queens, 
whose  Senile  Odium  had  been  acted  at  the  University 
during  the  previous  year,  and  Thomas  Randolph, 
whose  ability  had  not  yet  received  any  such  public 
recognition,  but  who  was  already  very  favorably 
known  to  a  great  number  of  the  students,  particularly, 
of  course,  to  those  of  his  own  college. 

The  whole  university  took  sides  with  the  two  candi- 
dates, and  in  order  to  settle  the  question  it  was  finally 
decided  that  both  plays  should  be  presented.  Through 
the  influence  of  Dr.  Butts,  the  Vice-Chancellor,  Haus- 
1  See  Bibliography,  Sec.  Ill,  No.  4. 


1 6  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

ted  arranged  that  his  play,  the  Rival  Friends,  should 
be  acted  first.  It  was  presented  on  the  igth  of  March  x 
and  proved  an  utter  failure,  partially,  no  doubt,  be- 
cause, as  Hausted  charged,  it  was  deliberately  cried 
down  by  the  opposing  faction,  but  chiefly  because  of 
its  dullness.  Randolph's  play,  the  Jealous  Lovers, 
which  apparently  was  presented  on  the  following  day, 
was  a  great  success;  not  only  was  it  liked  by  the 
university,  but,  what  was  of  much  more  importance, 
the  King,  and  Queen,  and  the  Court  were  all  well 
pleased  with  it; 2  so  well  pleased  that  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor severely  reproved  Dr.  Butts  for  his  bad  taste 
in  preferring  Hausted's  comedy  and,  indeed,  in  allow- 
ing the  Rival  Friends  to  be  given  at  all.  This  rebuke, 
originating  apparently  with  the  king,  so  upset  the 
Doctor  who  was  already  overloaded  with  troubles,  that 
he  hanged  himself  upon  Easter  morning. 

At  the  Commencement  held  in  June  of  that  year 
(the  year  in  which  Milton  took  his  M.A.)  Randolph 
filled  the  office  of  Prevaricator,  the  licensed  joker 
without  whom  no  Commencement  at  this  period  was 
considered  complete.  The  speech  he  delivered  upon 
this  occasion  has  been  preserved,3  and  is  of  compara- 
tively little  merit;  but  the  fact  that  of  all  the  graduates 
of  the  year  before,  he  should  have  been  the  one  chosen 
to  this  office,  apparently  an  elective  one,  is  in  itself  sig- 

1  The  title-page  of  the  Rival  Friends  gives  this  date,  as  does  Wood; 
Sir  Simonds  D'Ewes  (Life,  2,  67)  says  that  the  King  and  Queen  ar- 
rived on  the  I9th,  and  left  on  the  2Oth.  Baker,  however  (Cooper, 
Annals  3,  249),  says  that  they  arrived  on  the  22d. 

1  See  the  verses  prefixed  to  the  Jealous  Lovers,  especially  those  by 
James  Duport. 

s  Hazlitt  reprinted  it  from  a  MS.  formerly  in  the  Huth  Collection. 
The  conclusion  is  found  also  in  MS.  Rawl.  Poet  62. 


INTRODUCTION  17 

nificant.  We  must  not,  however,  overlook  the  fact 
that  Randolph  was  something  more  than  a  wit  and  a 
merry  companion; 1  he  was  also  a  man  of  large  intellect 
and  learning,  who  seems  to  have  fulfilled  the  duties  in 
connection  with  his  fellowship  in  a  highly  satisfactory 


manner/ 

With  the  Commencement  of  1632  his  connection 
with  the  University  (except  for  a  contribution  to  the 
volume  celebrating  the  king's  return  from  Scotland  in 
1633) 3  apparently  ceases,  for  about  this  time  we  find 
him  again  in  London.  Perhaps  his  success  as  an 
amateur  dramatist  tempted  him  to  try  his  fortune  in 
connection  with  the  metropolitan  stage.  Fleay's  con- 
jecture that  he  served  as  assistant  manager  of  the 
newly  organized  company  at  the  Salisbury  Court  The- 
atre certainly  fits  the  facts  well,  although  there  seems 
to  be  absolutely  no  direct  proof  of  his  connection  with 
this  company.  What  we  do  know  is,  that  he  suddenly 
acquired  considerable  familiarity  with  the  technique 
of  dramatic  composition,  and  although  it  is  quite 
possible  that  he  learned  this  from  Jonson  and  the  other 

1  Sir  Aston  Cockain,  writing  to  Sir  Robert  Milliard,  speaks  of  him 
as  one: 

"Whom  you  and  I  so  well  did  love  and  know 
When  Cambridge  (for  his  wit)  extol'd  him  so." 

but  perhaps  a  greater  tribute,  because  not  intended  as  one,  is  that  in 
ShadwelPs  Bury  Fair  (i,  i)  where  Oldwit  boasts:  "but  at  Cam- 
bridge none  so  great  as  I  with  Jack  Cleveland;  But  Tom  Randolph 
and  I  were  Hand  and  Glove;  Tom  was  a  brave  fellow;  the  most 
ingenious  poet." 

2  See  Richard  West's  account  (verses  prefixed  to  the  Poems)  of 
Randolph's  skill  in  the  exercises  of  the  schools. 

1  See  Bibliography,  Sec.  Ill,  No.  5.  Randolph  did  not  contribute 
to  the  Cambridge  collection  celebrating  the  king's  recovery  from  the 
small-pox  (Dec.  1632)  or  that  on  the  birth  of  the  Duke  of  York 
(Oct.  1633)- 


1 8  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

playwrights  with  whom  he  was  upon  intimate  terms, 
it  seems  more  likely  that  it  came  as  the  result  of  constant 
close  association  with  the  stage.  It  was  at  this  time 
that  he  produced  his  Amyntas,  which  was  acted  at  Court 
and  apparently  in  one  of  the  theatres  as  well;  probably 
he  also  revised  his  Entertainment,  now  called  the  Muses 
Loo  king-Glass,  for  a  number  of  allusions  in  it  seem  to 
point  to  about  this  date.  Malone's  suggestion  that 
he  may  have  assisted  in  the  preparation  of  the  second 
(1632)  folio  of  Shakespeare's  works  is  worth  abso- 
lutely nothing  unless  it  was  based  upon  some  more 
information  than  he  has  left  us.1 

The  qualities  which  had  made  him  such  a  favorite 
at  Cambridge  made  him  equally  popular  in  London, 
not  only  with  Ben  Jonson  and  his  circle,  with  whom  he 
seems  to  have  been  upon  terms  of  great  intimacy,  but 
with  the  fine  gentlemen  as  well,  and  even  at  Court  he 
was  apparently  no  stranger.2  But  this  popularity  had 
its  darker  side  as  well,  for  the  following  story,  given  by 
Winstanley,  certainly  has  some  truth  in  it.  He  was 
making  merry  "in  Gentlemen's  company"  and  "as  it 
often  happens  that  in  drinking  high  quarrels  arise,  so 
there  chanced  some  words  to  pass  between  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph and  another  gentleman,  which  grew  to  be  so  high, 
that  the  Gentleman  drawing  his  sword,  and  striking  at 
Mr.  Randolph,  cut  off  his  little  finger,  whereupon,  in  an 
extemporary  humour  he  instantly  made  these  Verses.3 

Arithmetick  nine  digits,"  etc.4 

1  See  Boswell's  note  in  Malone's  Shakespeare,  2,  656. 

2  See  the  verses  by  Richard  West  prefixed  to  the  Poems. 

3  W.  R.  Chetwood   (British   Theatre)   gives  a  different  account, 
saying  that  this  accident  occurred  when  he  tried  to  separate  two 
friends  who  were  fighting. 

4  See  p.  103. 


INTRODUCTION  19 

The  excesses  into  which  the  "liberal  conversation  of 
his  admirers"  led  him  undermined  his  constitution, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  leave  London  and  go  into  the 
country  in  the  hope  of  regaining  his  health.  He  spent 
some  time  at  Little  Houghton  in  the  home  of  his  father, 
engaged  in  his  "delightful  studies,"  as  Wood  calls 
them,  until  one  day,  meeting  William  Stafford  of  Blath- 
erwyck  (a  relative  of  his  old  friend  Anthony  Stafford), 
he  was  by  him  engaged  as  tutor  to  his  son  and  heir, 
receiving  therefor  an  allowance  of  £100  per  year.1 
Not  very  long  after  this  he  died  in  Stafford's  house, 
under  precisely  what  circumstances  we  do  not  know, 
but  the  general  impression  was  that  his  death  was  the 
result  of  his  irregular  mode  of  living.2 

On  the  iyth  of  March,  1634-5,  he  was  buried  in 
Blatherwyck  Church,  "on  the  south  side,  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  north  chancel,"  3  among  the  members  of 
the  Stafford  family.  Soon  afterward  a  monument  of 
white  marble,  wreathed  about  with  laurel,  was  erected 
over  his  grave  at  the  expense  of  Sir  Christopher  (after- 
wards Lord)  Hatton  of  Kirby;  the  inscription  upon 
it,  which  was  composed  by  Randolph's  friend  and  for- 
mer rival,  Peter  Hausted,  is  indeed,  as  Aubrey  says, 
puerile. 

1  Aubrey's  expression   is,   "I   think  O»  per  annum";     I   think 
Aubrey's  explanation  a  much  better  one  than  that  usually  given: 
that  Randolph  was  visiting  Stafford  purely  as  a  friend. 

2  Wood,  Langbaine,  Bridges,  etc. 

1  Bridges,  Northamptonshire,  2,  280. 


20  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


MEMORISE  SACRUM 

Thome  Randolphi  (dum  inter  pauciores)  Faelicis- 
simi  et  facillimi  ingenii  Juvenis  necnon  majora  pro- 
mittentis  si  fata  virum  non  invidissent  saeculo. 

Her  sleepe  thirteene 
Together  in  one  torn  be, 

And  all  these  greate,  yet  quarrell  not  for  rome: 
The  Muses  and  ye  Graces  teares  did  meete 
And  grav'd  these  letters  on  ye  churlish  sheete, 
Who  having  wept  their  fountaines  drye 
Through  the  conduit  of  the  eye, 
For  their  friend  who  here  does  lye, 
Crept  into  his  grave  and  dyed, 
And  soe  the  Riddle  is  untyed. 
For  w0*1  this  Church,  proud  y*  the  Fates  bequeath 
Unto  her  ever  honour'd  trust 
Soe  much  and  that  soe  precious  dust, 
Hath  crown'd  her  Temples  with  an  luye  wreath, 

W0*1  should  have  Laurelle  beene 
But  y*  the  grieved  plant  to  see  him  dead 
Tooke  pet  and  withered. 


Cujus  cineres  brevi  hac  (qua  potuit)  imortalitate 
donat  Christopherus  Hatton,  Miles  de  Balneo,  et 
Musaru  amator,  illius  vero  (quem  deflemus)  sup- 
plenda  carminibus  quae  marmoris  et  aeris  scandalum 
manebunt  perpetuum. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

Of  Randolph's  personal  appearance  we  are  able  to 
form  a  fairly  clear  idea;  a  portrait  of  him,1  probably 
engraved  by  Marshall,  appears  in  the  frontispiece  of 
the  1640  edition  of  the  Poems,  and  in  some,  but  not  all, 
of  the  copies  of  each  of  the  subsequent  editions.2 
Aubrey  tells  us  that  "he  was  of  a  pale  ill  complexion 
and  pock-bitten,"  and  Randolph  himself  tells  us  that 
he  was  marked  by  the  small-pox.  His  hair  was  of  very 
light  flaxen,  almost  white,  and  was  flaggy  as  may  be 
seen  from  his  picture.  He  was  of  middle  height  or 
slightly  less;  "of  about  my  stature  or  scarce  so  tall" 
says  Aubrey,  who  tells  us  elsewhere  that  he  himself 
was  of  middle  stature. 

III.  THE  CHARACTER  OF  HIS  WRITINGS 

Randolph's  fame  was  great  indeed  in  his  own  day, 
but  it  was  as  "one  of  the  most  pregnant  wits  of  his  age," 
rather  than  as  a  poet,  that  most  people  thought  of  him. 
Even  those  who  did  apply  to  him  the  term  "poet" 
were  thinking,  as  they  did  so,  rather  of  his  "witty" 
and  "ingenious"  poems,  his  timely  satire,  and  his  clever 
comedies,  than  of  these  qualities  which  we  usually  asso- 
ciate with  the  idea  of  true  poetry.  Randolph's  verse 
is  by  no  means  devoid  of  these  attributes,  for  although 
it  lacks  any  great  depth  of  feeling  he  does  exhibit  con- 
siderable lightness  and  grace  in  much  of  his  work. 

1  Hazlitt  is  very  probably  correct  when  he  interprets  the  inscrip- 
tion "^Etatis  SU2C  27"  as  meaning  that  he  was  27  when  the  likeness  of 
him  was  made,  but  an  interesting  coincidence  is  that  Aubrey,  who 
states  that  he  was  born  in  June   1605,  and  died   in  March   1634 
[1634-5],  refers  to  his  death  as  having  taken  place  in  his  twenty- 
eighth  year. 

2  According  to  Baker  (Northamptonshire),  this  was  republished 
by  Rodd,  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  a  copy  of  this  reprint. 


22  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

But  these  qualities  were  common  to  the  age  and  were 
possessed  in  equal  or  even  greater  degree  by  a  number  of 
his  contemporaries,  so  that  they  alone  would  not  suf- 
fice to  raise  a  man  very  much  above  the  common  level; 
even  Herrick,  who  possessed  them  in  such  a  preemi- 
nent degree,  was  scarcely  known  in  his  own  day. 

I  do  not  feel,  as  some  critics  have,  that  English  poetry 
suffered  any  very  great  loss  through  the  premature 
death  of  Randolph,  because  I  believe  that  any  poetic 
talent  he  may  have  possessed  had  had  ample  oppor- 
tunity to  assert  itself  before  he  died.  From  early  youth 
he  had  been  given  constant  practice  in  writing  verses, 
and  he  must  also  have  read  a  great  quantity  of  the  mas- 
terpieces of  Greece  and  Rome,  not  only  because  this 
was  required  in  school  and  college,  but  also  because  his 
tastes  were  decidedly  classical.  Very  likely,  as  he  was 
fond  of  reading,  he  knew  most  of  the  English  poets  as 
well,  but  the  classics  are  in  themselves  good  models  for 
a  young  poet.  When  we  consider  that  in  addition  to 
this  early  training,  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  most 
of  the  poets  of  his  day,  we  may  safely  assume  that  any 
genius  he  may  have  had  in  this  direction  would  not  have 
lain  dormant.  Had  he  lived  another  thirty  years  the 
general  average  of  his  work  would  certainly  have  been 
much  higher,  and  he  might  have  gained  somewhat  in 
sweetness  and  delicacy,  but  his  work  would  still  have 
been  of  much  the  same  character  as  the  more  mature 
of  those  poems  which  he  has  left  us. 

In  the  field  of  drama,  however,  the  case  is  far  different. 
Most  of  the  plays  which  he  witnessed  before  coming  to 
London  must  have  been  the  productions  of  classical 
drama,  or  of  plays  of  the  classical  type,  acted  at  school 
and  at  the  university.  It  was  because  he  followed  too 


INTRODUCTION  2$ 

closely  these  classical  models  that  his  early  plays  are, 
from  our  point  of  view,  failures.  The  Jealous  Lovers, 
although  it  has  many  good  features,  is  essentially 
unnatural  in  plot,  while  the  Muses  Looking-Glass  can 
hardly  be  called  a  play  at  all.  When  Randolph  re- 
vised it  he  inserted  scenes  and  characters  from  London 
life  as  he  had  come  to  know  it,  but  the  general  outline 
of  the  piece  he  did  not  and  could  not  change.  The  best 
of  his  early  work  is  the  Aristippus,  which  does  not  pre- 
tend to  be  a  play  at  all;  here,  unhampered  by  any 
conventions  or  preconceived  ideas  of  form,  he  has  given 
us  a  very  realistic  picture  of  the  life  he  knew,  greatly 
exaggerated,  of  course,  for  the  sake  of  humor. 

It  is  very  probable  that  he  had  read  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare  and  Jonson  and  perhaps  of  other  English 
dramatists,  but  if  so  he  was  evidently  unable  to  appre- 
ciate them  at  this  time.  A  play  intended  for  the  stage 
loses  half  its  force  when  read,  especially  when  one  is 
acquainted  only  with  a  totally  different  type  of  drama. 
It  must  therefore  have  been  something  in  the  nature  of 
a  revelation  to  Randolph  when  he  came  to  London  and 
got  into  really  close  touch  with  the  vigorous  native 
type  of  drama.  Play-writing  demands  a  much  longer 
apprenticeship  than  does  the  writing  of  poetry,  yet  in 
Randolph's  case  a  very  short  acquaintance  with  practi- 
cal stagecraft  worked  wonders.  The  plot  of  the  Amyn- 
tas,  apparently  the  only  one  of  his  plays  written  wholly 
after  he  came  to  London,  is  by  no  means  faultless,  but 
many  of  its  defects  are  those  inherent  in  the  pastoral 
drama,  while  others  common  to  the  type  have  been 
skilfully  avoided.  In  many  ways  the  plot  shows  a 
great  amount  of  ingenuity,  and,  compared  with  other 
plays  of  the  type,  the  situations  are  natural  and  the 


24  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

characters  well  drawn.  The  Amyntas  is  not  merely 
a  good  pastoral; l  it  is  very  significant  also  as  an  indi- 
cation of  Randolph's  growing  familiarity  with  the 
possibilities  and  limitations  of  the  acted  drama. 

The  parts  of  the  Muses  Looking-Glass  which  bear  the 
stamp  of  his  more  mature  workmanship  also  show 
decided  promise.  The  characters  remind  us  strongly 
of  Jonson,  but  Randolph,  although  he  had  great  respect 
for  the  old  dramatist,  was  by  no  means  content  to  follow 
him  slavishly.  Here,  as  in  other  cases,  he  took  the 
suggestion  which  seemed  to  him  good  and  developed 
it  for  himself,  and  as  time  went  on  and  he  came  to 
know  more  different  sides  of  life,  he  would  probably 
have  developed  a  style  more  and  more  his  own  and  less 
based  upon  the  work  of  any  one  else. 

His  greatness  therefore  lies  more  in  promise  than  in 
fulfilment;  he  had  nearly  all  of  the  qualities  which 
make  a  great  dramatist,  but  he  had  not  yet  realized  his 
powers  and  learned  to  use  them  to  the  best  advantage. 
This,  I  think,  would  have  come  in  time.  If  he  had 
lived  for  a  few  years  longer,  keeping  in  close  touch 
with  the  theatre,  and  in  equally  close  touch  with  life, 
he  might  very  probably  have  produced  realistic  com- 
edies that  would  have  rivalled  the  best  work  of  his 
master,  Jonson  himself. 

1  Most  critics  agree  in  giving  it  third  place  among  the  English 
plays  of  this  type,  while  a  number  rank  it  ahead  of  Jonson's  Sad 
Shepherd,  and  second  only  to  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherdess. 


INTRODUCTION 


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26  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

IV.  OTHER  MEMBERS  OF  THE  RANDOLPH  FAMILY  l 

The  children  of  William  Randolph  of  Little  Hough- 
ton  and  of  Elizabeth  his  first  wife  were: 

I.  THOMAS,  the  -poet,  born  June  15,  1605,  and  died, 
unmarried,  in  March  1634-5.  His  life  has 
already  been  given. 

II.  WILLIAM,  baptized  on  Oct.  18,  1607.  He  settled 
at  Ascot  in  the  County  of  Northampton,  where 
he  was  still  living  in  1682.  He  married  three 
times;  by  his  first  wife  Margaret,  the  daughter 
of  William  Burket  of  Bugbroke  in  the  County 
of  Northampton,  he  had  the  following  children : 

1.  Elizabeth,  who  died  unmarried. 

2.  Alice,  who  married  James  Neale,  son  of 

Robert  Neale  of  Fiffield  in  the  County  of 
Northampton. 

3.  Margaret,  who  married  William  Walters  of 

Eastcot  in  the  Parish  of  Pattishull  in  the 
County  of  Northampton. 

4.  William,  who  settled  at  Harrington  in  the 

County  of  Northampton;  he  died  about 
the  year  1675,  aged  about  40.  His  wife 
Elizabeth,  who  was  the  daughter  of 
Richard  Sherman  of  Hornton  in  the 
County  of  Oxford,  left  him  two  children: 

(a)  Elizabeth,  born  about  1666. 

(b)  Thomas,  born  about  1668. 

5.  Thomas,  who  died  unmarried. 

1  Much  of  this  material  has  never  before  appeared  in  print,  and  is 
not  accessible  even  in  a  large  library,  so  that  its  inclusion  seems  amply 


INTRODUCTION  27 

The  second  wife  of  William  Randolph  of  Ascot 
was  Marie,  the  widow  of  Theodore  Marks  of 
Patishull  in  the  County  of  Warwick.  She 
left  no  children.  His  third  wife  Sarah,  the 
daughter  of  Thomas  Ladbrooke  of  Cubbing- 
ton  in  the  County  of  Warwick,  was  still  living 
in  1682.  She  bore  him  three  more  children: 

6.  Sarah,  who  married  Thomas  Bodington  of 

Codington  in  the  County  of  Warwick. 

7.  Samuel,  who  in  1682  was  living  in  London 

in  Pye  Corner  by  Smithfield.     He  mar- 
ried   Sarah,    the    daughter   of  Richard 
Pinkerd    of  Ascot    in    the    County    of 
Northampton,  by  whom  he  had: 
(a)  A  daughter. 

8.  John,  born  about  1654;    living  unmarried 

in  1682. 

III.  ROBERT.  He  was  baptized  on  May  26,  1611. 
Educated  at  Westminster  School,  whence  he 
was  elected  to  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  in  1629. 
He  was  graduated  B.A.  June  1, 1633,  and  M.A. 
May  3,  1636  (as  Randall).  He  became  vicar 
of  Barnetby  and  afterwards  of  Donington  in 
Holland,  Lincolnshire,  where  he  was  buried 
on  July  7,  1671.  He  edited  the  works  of  his 
brother  Thomas  after  the  latter's  death,  and 
also  wrote  a  number  of  poems  of  his  own.  He 
married  twice;  his  first  wife,  who  was  the 

daughter  of Whitestone  of  Whittlesey  in 

the  Isle  of  Ely,  bore  him  one  son: 

justified.  In  general  this  section  follows  the  Northamptonshire 
Visitation  of  1682,  but  I  have  corrected  and  amplified  this  from  other 
sources. 


28  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

i.    Thomas,  who  was  born  about  1651,  and  who 
died  unmarried  on  July  25,  1671. 

His  second  wife  was  Joyce,  the  widow  of 

Weston.     She  died  without  issue. 

IV.  ELIZABETH,  who  was  baptized  on  Nov.  27,  1613. 
She  married  George  Burket  of  Bugbrook  in 
the  County  of  Northampton. 

The  children  of  William  Randolph  of  Little  Hough- 
ton  and  of  his  second  wife  Dorothy  were: 

V.  JOHN,  who  was  born  at  Little  Houghton  in  1619, 
and  died  in  April  1680.  He  was  an  attorney 
and  settled  at  Toceter  in  the  County  of 
Northampton.  He  married  Dorothy,  daugh- 
ter of  Lewis  Attebury  of  Great  Houghton,  and 
had  one  son : 

i.    William,  who  was  born  Nov.  17,  1643,  and 
who  in  1682  was  still  living  unmarried. 

VI.  RICHARD,  baptized  Feb.  23,  1621.  He  settled 
at  Morton  Morall  in  the  County  of  Warwick 
and  died  (in  Dublin)  in  May  1678.  He  mar- 
ried Elizabeth,  daughter  of  John  Riland, 
Gent.,  of  the  County  of  Warwick,  and  sister 
to  Archdeacon  Riland.  They  had  the  follow- 
ing children: 

1.  Richard,  a  stationer  of  London.     He  mar- 

ried but  died  without  issue. 

2.  William,  born  in  1651   and  emigrated  to 

Virginia  (about  1674),  where  he  died  on 
Apr.  n,  1711.  He  became  quite  promi- 
nent in  the  colony,  being  known  as 
Colonel  William  Randolph  of  Turkey 
Island,  and  from  him  is  descended  the 


INTRODUCTION  29 

famous  family  of  the  Randolphs  of 
Virginia.1  (For  further  details  in  regard 
to  him  or  his  descendants,  see  T.  A. 
Glenn,  Colonial  Mansions,  433,  or  L.  P. 
du  Bellet,  Virginia  Families,  2,  129.) 
He  and  his  descendants  used  the  old 
Randolph  arms  of  the  five  mullets  on  a 
cross,  and  there  is  still  preserved  in  the 
Henrico  County  Court  House  a  paper 
dated  1698,  which  shows  the  seal  of  Col. 
William  Randolph,  bearing  these  arms.2 

3.  Thomas,  died  unmarried. 

4.  John,  living  in  the  Strand  in  London  in 

1682. 

5.  Dorothy.     In  1682  she  was  unmarried  and 

was  living  at  the  home  of  Sir  Edward 
Boughton  in  Warwickshire. 

6.  Mary,  married in  the  County 

of  Dorset. 

VII.  HENRY,  baptized  Nov.  27,  1623.  He  went  into 
Virginia  about  1642,  married  two  wives  there, 
and  had  issue  by  both. 

VIII.  ANNE.     Baptized  Feb.  8,  1625,  and  died  in  the 
following  year. 

IX.  GEORGE,  baptized  July  29,  1627.  He  was  "acci- 
dently  slain  in  the  late  wars"  June  5,  1645, 
and  was  buried  at  Harrington  in  the  County 
of  Northampton. 

1  Henry  Randolph  (VII)  also  left  children  in  Virginia,  and  one  of 
the  Kent  branch  of  the  family  likewise  settled  there,  but  the  Ran- 
dolphs who  were  prominent  in  the  affairs  of  the  colony  trace  their 
descent  to  Colonel  William. 

1  Glenn,  434;  Crozier,  Virginia  Heraldica,  16. 


30  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

X.  MARGARET,  baptized  Apr.  30,  1629.  She  mar- 
ried Roger  Philips,  an  Apothecary  in  Brent- 
ford, in  the  County  of  Middlesex. 

XL   JUDITH,  baptized  Aug.  30,  1630.     She  married 
Henry  Welton  of  Brentford. 

V.  THE  AMYNTAS 
(a)  History 

The  English  public  never  took  very  kindly  to  the 
pastoral  type  of  drama,  and  the  Amyntas  was  no 
exception  to  this  rule.  It  made  little  or  no  stir  at  the 
time  it  was  presented,  and  for  this  reason  it  is  difficult, 
if  not  impossible,  to  discover  anything  definite  about 
its  stage  history. 

We  know  from  the  title-page  of  the  printed  editions 
that  it  was  acted  before  the  King  and  Queen  at  White- 
hall (in  1632-3,  by  the  Queen's  men,  says  Fleay),  but 
we  are  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  reception 
it  met  there.1  It  must  also  have  been  acted  at  one  of 
the  regular  theatres,  or  at  least  have  been  prepared  for 
such  presentation,  for,  as  Fleay  points  out,  the  pro- 
logue and  epilogue  are  not  suitable  for  a  court  perform- 
ance. So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  discover,  it  was 
never  revived,  although  an  altered  version  of  it,  under 
the  title  of  the  Fickle  Shepherdess,  was  presented  about 
the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

1  The  "Pastorall,"  which  is  recorded  by  Sir  Henry  Herbert  as 
having  been  played  at  Court  on  Easter  Tuesday  in  1634,  is,  accord- 
ing to  Fleay,  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherdess. 


INTRODUCTION  31 

(b)  Sources  l 

The  Amyntas  owes  its  indebtedness  to  a  general  type 
rather  than  to  any  individual  play,  for  in  neither  plot 
nor  characters  has  Randolph  borrowed  bodily  from  any 
other  work.  What  he  has  done  is  to  create,  using  situ- 
ations and  characters  taken  here  and  there  from  various 
sources,  a  play  which  is  distinctly  his  own,  although 
reminding  us  at  every  turn  of  something  familiar. 

In  his  attempt  to  create  a  pastoral  drama  which  would 
be  acceptable  to  an  English  audience,  Randolph  has 
fused  together  two  quite  dissimilar  elements :  the  Italian 
pastoral  type,  which  was  never  really  naturalized  upon 
the  English  stage,  and  the  comedy  element  which  had 
been  so  essential  a  part  of  the  native  English  drama  ever 
since  its  origin.  When  one  tries  to  trace  incidents  and 
situations,  rather  than  a  complete  plot,  back  to  their 
sources,  it  is  very  easy  to  overemphasize  the  indebted- 
ness of  one  work  to  another,  for  many  of  these  incidents 
are  common  to  a  number  of  writers,  besides  being  of  so 
simple  a  character  that  they  might  occur  to  any  author 
quite  independently.  This  is  particularly  true  in  the 
case  of  the  pastoral  drama,  in  which  a  certain  number 
of  types  and  situations  came  to  be  standardized,  so 
that  all  later  plays  were  composed  of  new  combinations 
of  the  old  material. 

1  The  general  subject  of  the  pastoral  drama  has  been  so  fully 
considered  by  Gregg  in  his  work  on  the  pastoral,  that  it  seemed  idle 
to  attempt  anything  of  the  kind  here.  He  has  also  given  a  rather 
extended  discussion  of  the  Amyntas  and  its  place  in  the  movement, 
and  to  that  book  the  reader  is  referred  for  information  on  this  subject. 
All  that  I  have  endeavored  to  do  is  to  bring  together  the  possible 
sources  mentioned  by  Gregg  and  Kottas,  and  to  add  some  others  which 
they  have  overlooked. 


32  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Randolph's  greatest  debt  is  undoubtedly  to  the 
Aminta  (1573)  of  Tasso  and  the  Pastor  Fido  (1590)  of 
Guarini,  the  two  finest  examples  of  this  type  of  lit- 
erature. Both  of  these  plays  had  appeared  in  English 
translations  before  the  time  when  the  Amyntas  was  writ- 
ten, so  that  a  familiarity  with  them  does  not  pre-suppose 
any  knowledge  of  Italian  on  the  part  of  Randolph. 

Medorus'  narration  of  the  events  which  led  up  to 
the  curse  upon  Sicilia  resembles  very  closely  that  of 
Ergasto  in  the  Pastor  Fido  (i,  2),  and  the  prayer  of  the 
rejected  lover  which  caused  the  goddess  to  lay  this 
curse  upon  the  country  is  likewise  much  the  same  in  the 
two  plays  (except  that  in  the  Amyntas  it  is  the  father 
of  the  lover,  not  the  lover  himself,  who  makes  the 
prayer).  The  ambiguous  oracle  with  which  the  goddess 
answered  the  prayers  of  her  suppliants  is  a  fairly  com- 
mon stock  device,  found  in  the  Pastor  Fido,  but  also  in 
such  works  as  Rutter's  Shepherd's  Holiday  (not  printed 
until  1635  but  acted  earlier),  Daniel's  Hymen  s  Triumph, 
and  the  Maydes  Metamorphosis  (by  Lyly?).  The  an- 
swering of  questions  by  the  Echo  was  a  device  suffi- 
ciently common  to  excite  the  ridicule  of  Butler  in  his 
Hudibras.  Examples  of  it  occur  in  the  Pastor  Fido  and 
Sidney's  Arcadia.  Damon's  sudden  discovery  of  his 
love  for  Amaryllis  after  he  had  wounded  her  resembles 
quite  closely  the  scene  between  Silvio  and  Dorinda  in 
the  Pastor  Fido  (4,  9),  and  the  scene  where  Pilumnus 
is  saved,  by  a  very  unexpected  interpretation  of  the 
meaning  of  the  oracle,  from  the  sacrifice  of  his  son,  bears  a 
slight  resemblance  to  the  sacrifice  scene  in  the  same  play. 

The  Damon- Amaryllis  situation  (that  of  a  man  in 
love  with  a  woman  who  spurns  him,  while  he  in  turn  is 
loved  by  a  woman  whom  he  spurns)  is  one  of  the  most 


INTRODUCTION  33 

obvious  of  all,  and  is  found  in  innumerable  plays. 
Some  of  those  which  approach  nearest  to  the  situation 
here  are  the  Midsummer.  Night's  Dream,  Daniel's 
Queen's  Arcadia,  Rutter's  Shepherd's  Holiday,  and 
Hausted's  Rival  Friends.  Laurinda,  the  "wavering 
nymph,"  is  but  an  expansion  of  the  common  pastoral 
type  of  the  shepherdess  who  is  courted  by  all,  but,  being 
averse  to  love,  accepts  none  of  her  suitors.  Randolph 
seems  to  have  intended  to  make  her  actions  seem  more 
natural  by  giving  her  a  motive  for  them.  Gregg  thinks 
that  her  inability  to  decide  between  her  two  lovers  may 
owe  something  to  Bonarelli's  Filli  di  Sciro  (especially 
3,  i),  but  I  think  it  more  likely  that,  if  we  are  to  seek 
a  source  at  all,  it  may  be  found  in  Hausted's  Rival 
Friends,  with  which  we  can  be  positive  Randolph  was 
familiar.  (It  is  true  that  the  idea  here  is  not  carried 
out  to  such  a  length  as  it  is  in  the  Filli  di  Sciro,  but  Ran- 
dolph required  no  more  than  a  hint  to  set  his  mind  work- 
ing.) The  contention  between  Damon  and  Alexis  as 
to  which  of  them  Laurinda  preferred  is  closely  paralleled 
by  that  between  Carinus  and  Amyntas  in  Daniel's 
Queen's  Arcadia. 

Dorylas,  the  chief  comedy  character,  is  Randolph's 
own  creation,  although  he  reminds  us  somewhat  of 
Joculo  in  the  Maydes  Metamorphosis  (one  of  the  attend- 
ant "elves"  in  the  Amyntas  is  named  Joculo),  or  of 
the  pages  of  Lyly's  comedies.  Mopsus  and  Jocastus, 
characters  in  the  style  of  Jonson,  are  probably  of  Ran- 
dolph's own  creation  likewise,  although  the  former  may 
very  possibly  have  been  suggested  1  by  the  "Mopso, 
ch'  intende  il  parlar  de  gli  augelli,"  of  the  Aminta  (i,  2), 

1  The  name  Mopsus  was  borne  by  two  of  the  seers  of  the  early 
Greeks. 


34  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

even  as  Claius  seems  to  have  been  inspired  by  the  song 
of  Lamon  in  Book  I  of  the  Arcadia. 

"Claius  for  skill  of  herbs  and  shepherds  art 
Among  the  wisest  was  accounted  wise." 

The  trick  played  upon  Jocastus  by  Dorylas  resembles 
somewhat  the  scene  in  the  Merry  Wives,  where  the 
pseudo-fairies  pinch  Falstaff,  singing  as  they  do  so,  and 
it  also  has  certain  points  of  similarity  with  the  scene  in 
the  Alchemist,  where  Dol,  as  the  Queen  of  Faery,  imposes 
upon  Dapper;  I  think  that  a  closer  parallel  than  either 
of  these  can  be  found  in  the  Rival  Friends,  where  the 
Bedlam,  disguised  as  Oberon,  imposes  upon  Stipes  and 
his  daughter  Merda,  promising,  among  other  things, 
that  he  will  make  Stipes  a  gentleman.  The  promised 
change  in  the  sex  of  Jocastus  reminds  us  of  the  Galla- 
thea  of  Lyly  or  of  the  Maydes  Metamorphosis,  where 
Eurymine  is  changed  into  a  man  and  later  into  a 
woman  again. 

(c)   The  Fickle  Shepherdess 

Who  the  author  of  this  adaptation  was  seems  never 
to  have  been  known,  as  all  the  early  historians  of  the 
stage  class  it  as  "Anonymous."  According  to  Chet- 
wood  (British  Theatre)  it  was  produced  in  1695,  but  it 
was  not  printed  until  1703,  when  an  edition  appeared 
"as  it  is  acted  in  the  New  Theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields  by  Her  Majestie's  Servants."  Genest  (2,  293) 
thinks  from  the  prologue  that  it  was  acted  in  the  spring, 
but  he  can  give  us  no  information  beyond  what  we  find 
in  the  printed  copies  of  the  play.1 

1  It  is  quite  possible  that  a  search  through  the  newspapers  in  the 
British  Museum  might  yield  something;  those  which  I  have  been 
able  to  secure  here  do  not  mention  the  play. 


INTRODUCTION  35 

According  to  the  title-page  of  this  play  it  was  "played 
all  by  women."  The  cast  for  the  performance  was: 

Clorinda,  a  Fickle  Shepherdess  M.  Barry 

Amintas,  a  mad  shepherd  in  love  with  Urania  Mrs.  Bracegirdle 

Damon  \   Two  rivals  in         1  Mrs.  Bowman 

Alexis    /  love  with  Clorinda  /  Mrs.  Prince 

Menalchas,  Father  to  Clorinda  Mrs.  Willis 
Adrastus,  High  priest  of  Ceres,  father  of  Damon  and  Urania      Mrs.  Lee 

Amaryllis,  in  love  with  Damon  Mrs.  Porter 

Urania,  in  love  with  Amintas  Mrs.  Alison 

Flavia,  an  old  Nymph,  sister  to  Claius  Mrs.  Martin 

Claius,  father  to  Amintas  and  Amaryllis  Mrs.  Lawson 

A  Shepheard  Miss  Parsons 

Dorylas,  a  waggish  boy  The  little  Boy 

The  changes  made  in  the  play  are  such  as  we  might 
look  for  from  a  person  altering  it  to  suit  the  taste  of 
the  highly  "correct"  early  eighteenth  century.  In 
order  to  secure  unity  of  plot,  Mopsus,  Jocastus,  Bro- 
mius,  etc.,  had  to  go,  together  with  the  comedy  scenes 
in  which  they  took  part.  (In  the  scene  of  Amyntas' 
madness  the  Shepherd  takes  the  part  originally  given  to 
Mopsus.)  In  order  that  there  may  be  no  doubt  con- 
cerning the  motives  of  Laurinda,  or  Clorinda  as  she 
appears  here,  the  play  is  made  to  begin  with  a  scene  in 
which  she  confesses  her  inability  to  decide  between 
her  two  lovers.  Damon's  action  in  wounding  Amaryllis 
deliberately  is  too  rude  for  a  refined  age;  in  the  later 
version  she  is  injured  when  she  runs  in  front  of  the  spear 
which  he  throws  at  Alexis. 

In  the  greater  part  of  the  play  the  very  words  of 
Randolph  are  used,  changed  just  sufficiently  to  make 
of  it  neither  good  verse  nor  good  prose.  This  nonde- 
script is  written  as  prose,  and  is  interspersed  with  pas- 
sages of  very  Augustinian  prose  dialogue.  Scattered 
throughout  the  play  are  dances  and  new  songs. 


36  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

VI.  THE  TEXT 

The  first  (1638)  edition  is  by  far  the  best  text  which 
we  have  of  both  the  Poems  and  the  Amyntas.  It  was 
evidently  prepared  with  a  considerable  amount  of 
care  on  the  part  of  Robert  Randolph,  and  from  a 
purely  mechanical  point  of  view  as  well  it  is  a  very 
good  piece  of  work.  The  second  (1640)  edition  is  not 
so  carefully  printed,  but  it  may  possibly  contain  cor- 
rections by  Robert  Randolph  of  some  of  the  errors  of 
the  first  edition;  it  also  contains  some  things  not  in  the 
first.  The  third  edition  (Poems  1643,  Amyntas  1640) 
seems  to  have  been  printed  from  the  second,  while  the 
fourth  (1652)  was  almost  certainly  printed  from  the 
third.  Both  of  these  latter  editions  are  very  carelessly 
set  up  and  abound  in  errors.  The  fifth  edition  (Poems 
1664,  Amyntas  1662),  a  much  better  piece  of  work,  seems 
to  have  been  set  up  from  the  second,  while  the  sixth  and 
seventh  (both  1668,  the  second  of  the  two  probably  set 
up  from  the  first  of  them)  apparently  follow  the  fifth. 
These  are  both  well  printed,  but  the  compositor  has 
taken  great  liberties  with  the  text  in  order  to  bring  it 
into  harmony  with  his  ideas  of  what  Randolph  wrote. 

The  text  which  I  give  aims  to  be,  as  regards  both 
spelling  and  punctuation,  an  exact  reprint  of  the  first 
edition,  with  the  following  exception:  where  obvious 
mistakes  in  the  first  edition  have  been  corrected  in  the 
later  ones  I  have  adopted  the  correction,  but  in  all  such 
cases  I  have  given  the  original  reading  in  the  footnotes  1 
so  that  it  will  be  possible  for  any  reader  who  wishes 
to  reconstruct  the  original  text  exactly.  I  have  given 

1  Some  of  the  oft-repeated  but  meaningless  variations  in  the  use 
of  italics  are  noted  in  an  appendix. 


INTRODUCTION  37 

in  the  same  place  all  the  variant  readings  of  the  later 
editions  which  may  be  of  significance  as  altering  either 
the  sense  or  the  metre  of  the  earlier  text.  In  some 
cases  a  poem  appeared  in  some  collection  of  verses  be- 
fore it  was  included  in  the  1638  volume;  I  have  recorded 
the  variants  of  these  texts  also,  adopting  them  where 
they  seemed  preferable,  but  in  every  such  case  recording 
the  fact  in  the  notes. 

In  the  case  of  the  poems  appearing  first  in  the  1640 
volume  I  have  been  forced  to  follow  the  text  of  1643 
(the  other  being  exceedingly  difficult  to  obtain),  but  as 
I  have  made  a  thorough  collation  of  this  with  the  earlier 
text,  the  differences  which  I  have  not  mentioned  in  the 
footnotes  will  be  confined  to  minor  variations  in  spelling 
and  italicizing.  In  the  dramatic  dialogue  I  have 
printed  the  half  lines  (which  in  the  early  editions  always 
begin  at  the  left  of  the  page)  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
indicate  their  relation  to  the  other  half  lines:  in  no 
case,  however,  have  I  ventured  to  alter  the  line  division; 
where  this  seemed  incorrect  I  have  given  my  suggestions 
at  the  bottom  of  the  page. 

In  general  I  have  ignored  manuscript  versions  of 
poems  which  are  to  be  found  also  in  printed  copies, 
as  the  latter  are  practically  always  the  more  reliable. 
Where  in  default  of  a  better  text  it  is  necessary  to  rely 
upon  a  single  manuscript  or  a  single  printed  copy,  I 
have  endeavored  to  reproduce  that  text  exactly,  except 
that  I  have  ventured  to  expand  such  manuscript  ab- 
breviations as  are  usually  given  in  full  in  the  early 
printed  books. 

Of  the  poems  which  have  previously  been  credited  to 
Randolph  I  have  omitted,  as  certainly  not  his,  the  one 
Upon  a  Hermaphrodite  (Hazlitt,  p.  640),  which  is  by 


38  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

John  Cleveland;  the  To  Dr  Empiric  (Hazlitt,  p.  655), 
which  is  by  Ben  Jonson;  The  high  and  mighty  Com- 
mendation of  the  Virtue  of  a  Pot  of  Good  Ale  (Hazlitt, 
p.  662),  which  is  an  old  ballad;1  and  The  Combat  of  the 
Cocks  (Hazlitt,  p.  677),  which  is  by  Robert  Wild.1 
I  have  not  included  the  epitaph  upon  Drayton  which 
in  MS.  Ashmole  38  is  credited  to  "Tho:  Randall," 
but  which  has  been  credited  to  Quarles,  Jonson, 
Beaumont,  and  even  to  Drayton  himself  upon  as 
good  or  better  grounds;  its  authorship  seems  to  have 
been  in  doubt  even  at  the  time  when  it  was  made 
(see  Aubrey,  i,  240).  Neither  have  I  included  the 
ballad  called  The  Merry  Hoastess  (Roxburgh  Ballads, 
3>  306),  which  Chappell  suggested  might  possibly  be 
by  Randolph,  as  it  was  printed  with  the  initials  T.  R. 
some  time  before  1664;  it  is  not  in  the  least  in  his 
style.  Furthermore  I  have  omitted  the  dedicatory 
poems  prefixed  to  the  Jealous  Lovers  which  are  cer- 
tainly by  Randolph,  but  which  belong  more  properly 
with  an  edition  of  the  play. 

I  have  not  included  Randolph's  Latin  poems  in  this 
edition,  as  they  seem  hardly  to  belong  to  English  litera- 
ture and  would,  I  believe,  prove  interesting  to  very 
few.  They  may  all  be  found  in  Hazlitt's  edition  of  the 
poet,  with  the  exception  of  two  short  ones  which  I 
have  given  in  the  notes  to  this  volume  (pp.  350  and  360), 
a  translation  of  Jonson' s  Ode  to  Himself  which  is  found 
in  the  Crewe  of  Kind  London  Gossips,  1663,  and  the 
verses  on  the  marriage  of  King  Charles  and  Henrietta 
Maria,  which  occur  in  the  Cambridge  collection  of 
verses  entitled  Epithalamium  .  .  .  Caroli  .  .  .  et  H. 
Mariae  (Bibliography,  Sec.  Ill,  No.  i). 
1  See  p.  41. 


INTRODUCTION  39 

VII.   BIBLIOGRAPHY 
I.    Works  published  as  Randolph' s 

1.  Aristippus   or  the   loviall    Philosopher:    demon- 
strativelie  proouing,  That  Quartes,  Pintes  and  Pottles, 
Are  sometimes  necessary  Authors  in  a  Scholers  Library* 
Presented  in  a  priuate  Shew.     To  which  is  added,  The 
Conceited   Pedlar.     Omnis  Aristippum  decuit  color  & 
status  y   res.     Semel  insaniuimus.     London,    Printed 
by  Thomas  Harper,  [etc.]  MDCXXX. 

Another  edition  was  published  in  the  same  year  by 
Robert  Allot  (see  footnote,  p.  13),  who  republished  it 
in  1631  and  1635.  There  is  also  a  Dublin  edition  which 
was  apparently  published  in  1635.  Later  editions 
(1652,  1662,  and  two  in  1668)  were  included  in  the 
collected  Works  of  Randolph. 

2.  The  Jealous  Lovers  a  Comedie  presented  to  their 
gracious   majesties    at    Cambridge    by    the    Students 
of  Trinity-Colledge.      Written  by  Thomas  Randolph 
Master  of  Arts,  and  Fellow  of  the  House.     Valeat  res 
ludicra,  si  me  Palma  negata  macrum,  donata  reducit 
opimum.     Printed  by  the  Printers  to  the  Universitie 
of  Cambridge.     Ann.  Dom.  1632.  [etc.] 

This  was  reprinted  in  1634,  1640,  1646,  1652,  1662, 
and  twice  in  1668.  The  first  of  these  is  occasionally, 
and  the  others  are  regularly,  found  with  the  collected 
editions. 

3.  Poems,  With  the  Mvses  Looking-glasse  and  Amyn- 
tas.     By  Thomas  Randolph  Master  of  Arts  and  late 
Fellow   of  Trinity    Colledge    in    Cambridge.     Oxford 
Printed  by  Leonard  Lichfield  Printer  to  the  Vniversity> 
for  Francis  Bowman;  M.DC.XXXVIII. 


40  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

This  was  reprinted  in  1640,  with  the  addition,  in 
some  copies,  of  the  Jealous  Lovers;  in  1643  with  the 
Jealous  Lovers;  and  in  1652,  1664,  and  1668  (twice), 
with  the  Aristippus  and  the  Pedlar  also. 

The  Harleian  Catalogue,  printed  in  1743,  mentions  an  edition  of 
Randolph's  "Poems,  translations,  and  Plays.  London  1634,  in  4to," 
and  this  edition  has  been  mentioned  by  various  persons,  but  no  copy 
of  it  is  now  known,  and  it  is  possible  that  no  such  edition  ever  existed, 
as  Randolph's  contemporaries  make  no  mention  of  it. 

4.  The  Mvses  Looking-glasse.     By  T.  R.     Oxford, 
Printed  by  Leonard  Lichfield,  for  Francis  Bowman, 
1638. 

This  was  reprinted  in  1640,  1643,  1652,  1662,  and 
twice  in  1668,  each  time  in  connection  with  the  collected 
Works.  It  appeared  again  in  I7o6(?),  with  a  dedica- 
tion to  (not  by,  as  is  usually  stated)  Jeremy  Collier.  It 
was  included  in  Dodsley's  Old  Plays,  except  in  the  last 
edition,  and  in  Scott's  British  Drama. 

5.  Amyntas  or  the  Impossible  Dowry.     A  Pastorall 
acted    before    the    King    &    Queene    at    White-Hall. 
Written    by    Thomas    Randolph.     Pastorem,    Tityre, 
pingues  Pascere  oportet  oves,  diductum  dicere  Carmen. 
Oxford,    Printed    by    Leonard    Lichfield    for    Francis 
Bowman.     1638. 

This  was  reprinted  in  1640  (twice),  1652,  1662,  and 
1668  (twice),  each  time  in  connection  with  the  collected 
works. 

2.    Works  credited  to  Randolph,  but  whose  authenticity 
is  doubtful 

I.  Cornelianvm  Dolivm.  Comoedia  lepidissima,  op- 
timorum  judiciis  approbata,  &  Theatrali  coryphoeo, 
nee  imme  rito,  donata,  palma  chorali  apprime  digna. 


INTRODUCTION  41 

Auctore,  T.R.  ingeniossimo  hujus  aevi  Heliconio. 
Ludunt  dum  juvents,  lasciviunt  Senes,  Senescunt  juvenes, 
juvenescunt  Senes.  Londini,  apud  Tho.  Harperum. 
[etc.]  1638. 

This  title-page,  and  the  dedication,  which  speaks  of 
the  author  as  having  recently  died,  apply  to  Randolph 
better  than  to  any  other  T.R.  of  the  time  and  I  see 
no  reason  to  question  his  authorship;  it  was  credited 
to  him  as  early  as  the  time  of  Aubrey.  Some  of  the 
Latin  forms  resemble  the  Latin  of  Richard  Brathwaite, 
and  it  is  possible  that  he  may  have  revised  the  play 
for  publication. 

2.  The  High  and  Mightie  Commendation  of  the  ver- 
tue  of  a  Pot  of  Good  Ale.  Full  of  wit  without  offence, 
of  mirth  without  obscenitie,  of  pleasure  without  scur- 
rilitie,  and  of  good  content  without  distaste. 

Whereunto  is  added  the  valiant  battell  fought  be- 
tweene  the  Norfolk  Cock  and  the  Wisbich  Cock, 
written  by  Thomas  Randall.  London,  printed  for  F. 
Cowles,  T.  Bates,  and  J.  Wright.  MDCXLII. 

The  former  of  these  two  poems  is  undoubtedly  the 
"ballad  called,  A  proper  newe  ballad  which  without  any 
fayle  will  shewe  all  the  hurte  in  a  pott  of  good  ale  &." 
which  Lyman  Stafford  registered  with  the  Stationers' 
Company  on  May  27,  1612.  That  it  was  known  before 
it  appeared  here  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  John  Taylor 
gives  a  prose  paraphrase  of  it  in  1637  (Drinke  and  Wel- 
come}. It  appeared  many  times  in  varying  forms 
throughout  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 
Hazlitt  included  it  in  his  edition  of  Randolph,  but  later 
doubted  its  authenticity. 

The  second  poem,  here  credited  to  Randolph, 
appeared  later  under  the  name  of  Robert  Wild,  to 


42  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

whom  it  is  also  credited  in  the  Compleat  Gamster  of 
Charles  Cotton(?)  and  in  Tom  D'Urfey's  Pills  to  Purge 
Melancholy.  J.  Hunt  in  his  edition  of  Wild  gives  it  to 
him  without  question.  According  to  Hazlitt,  a  MS. 
in  the  Huth  collection  gives  the  date  of  the  battle  as 
June  17,  1637,  which  is  after  Randolph's  death  but  while 
Wild  was  still  at  Cambridge. 

3.  IIXouTo4>0aX/ua  U\ovToyania.     A  pleasant  comedie 
Entituled    Hey    for    Honesty,    down    with    Knavery. 
Translated  out  of  Aristophanes  his  Plutus,  by  Tho: 
Randolph.     Augmented  and  Published  by  F.J.     Dives 
fabula  sum  satis  superque:    At  Pauper  satis  &  super 
Poeta.     London,  printed  in  the  Year  1651. 

This  is  full  of  allusions  to  events  which  happened 
after  Randolph's  death,  but  the  general  scheme  of  the 
play  and  certain  individual  passages  are  much  in  his 
style.  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  that  it  is  what  it 
purports  to  be:  an  incomplete  play  of  Randolph's,  fin- 
ished after  his  death  by  some  person  not  now  known. 

4.  On   June   29,    1660,   "The  Prodigall  Scholar,   a 
Comedy  by  Tho:  Randall"  was  registered  with  the 
Stationers'    Company    by    Humphrey    Moseley,    but 
nothing  further  is  known  of  it. 

3.    Volumes  in  which  poems  by  Randolph  made  their 
first  appearance 

1.  Epithalamium  Illustriss.  &  Feliciss.     Principum 
Caroli  regis  et  H.  Mariae  reginae  Magnae  Britanniae. 
&c.     A  Musis  Cantabrigiensibus  decantatum.     Excu- 
debat  Cantrellvs  Legge,  Almae  Matris  Cantabrigiae 
Typographua  MDCXXV. 

2.  Memoriae  Honoratissimi  Domini  Francisci,  Baro- 


INTRODUCTION  43 

nis  de  Verulamio,  Vice-Comitis  Sancti  Albani,  sacrum. 
Londini  in  Officina  Johannis  Haviland.     1626. 

3.  Epigrammatom  Opvsccvlvm  Dvobvs  Libellis  Dis- 
tinctvm.    [etc.]]    Authore    Huntingdono    Plumptre  in 
Artibus  magistro  Cantab.     Londini  Typis  Tho.  Harper, 
imprensis  Roberti  Allot.     An.  Dom.  1629. 

4.  Genethliacum  Illustrissimorum  Principum  Caroli 
&    Mariae    a    Musis    Cantabrigiensibus    Celebratum. 
Excusum  Cantabrigiae  1631. 

5.  Rex  Redux,  Sive  Musa  Cantabrigiensis  voti  dam- 
nas  De  incolumitate  &  felici  reditu  Regis  Caroli  post 
receptam  Coronam,  Comitiaq;    peracta  in  Scotia.     Ex 
Academiae  Cantabrigiensis  Typographeo,  Ann.  Dom. 
MDCXXXIII. 

6.  Parentalia  Spectatissimo  Rolando  Cottono  Equiti 
Aurato  Salopiensi  Memoriae  &  Pietatis  ergo.     Londini 
Excudebat  A.  M.     1635. 

7.  Annalia  Dvbrensia.     Vpon  the  yeerely  celebra- 
tion  of  Mr.   Robert   Dovers  Olimpick   Games   vpon 
Cotswold-Hills  Written   by  [Drayton,  Randolph,  Ben 
Jonson,  Owen  Feltham,  Shackerley  Marmion,  Thomas 
Heywood,  and  twenty-seven  other  less  well  known  per- 
sons. ]    London,     Printed    by    Robert    Raworth    for 
Mathewe  Walbancke  1636. 

8.  The  Gratefvll  Servant.     A  Comedie.     As  it  was 
lately   presented  with  good   applause  in  the  private 
House  in  Drury-Lane.      By  her  Majesties  Servants. 
Written  by  James  Shirley  Gent.  —  Usque  ego  postera 
Crescam   laude  recens.     London:    Printed  by  I.  Okes 
for  William  Leake,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  in 
Chancery-lane  neere  the  Roules.     1637. 

This  is  the  second  edition  of  this  play;  the  first 
did  not  contain  the  poem  by  Randolph. 


44  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

9.  A  Crew  of  Kind  London  Gossips  All  met  to  be 
Merry  [etc.]  To  Which  is  Added  Ingenious  Poems  or 
wit  and  drollery.  Written  and  newly  enlarged  by  S.R. 
QSamuel  Rowlands']  1663. 

4.   Alterations  of  works  by  Randolph 

1.  The  Fickle  Shepherdess;    as  it  is  acted  in  the 
New  Theater  in  Lincolns-Inn  Fields  By  Her  Majesties 
Servants.    Play'd  all  by  Women.    London  [~no  author's 
name]  1703. 

An  adaptation  of  the  Amyntas.     See  p.  33. 

2.  The  Mirrour  A  Comedy  in  Three  Acts  with  the 
Author's   Life    and    an   Account   of  the   Alterations. 
London,  [etc.]  MDCCLVI 

This  is  an  adaptation  of  the  Muses  Looking-Glass; 
the  author  was  H.  Dell.  A  second  edition  appeared  in 
the  next  year. 

5.    Chief  sources  for  the  life  of  Randolph 

Aubrey,  John,  "  Brief  Lives,"  chiefly  of  Contemporaries. 
Edited  from  the  author's  MSS.  by  Andrew  Clark. 
Oxford,  1898. 

Baker,  David  Erskine,  Biographia  dramatica;  or  a  com- 
panion to  the  playhouse.  Enlarged  by  Isaac  Reed 
and  Stephen  Jones.  London,  1812. 

Baker,  George,  The  history  and  antiquities  of  the 
county  of  Northampton.  London,  1822-41. 

Bridges,  John,  History  and  Antiquities  of  Northamp- 
tonshire. Edited  from  the  author's  MSS.  by  the 
Rev.  Peter  Wh alley.  Oxford,  1791. 

Chetwood,  William  Rufus,  The  British  Theater.     Con- 


INTRODUCTION  45 

taining  the  lives  of  the  English  Dramatic  Poets. 
Dublin,  1750. 

Jacob,  Giles,  The  poetical  register;  or,  the  Lives  and 
characters  of  the  English  Poets.  London,  1723. 

Langbaine,  Gerard,  An  account  of  the  English  dramatic 
poets.  Oxford,  1691. 

.  The  lives  and  characters  of  the  English 

dramatic  poets.  London,  1699. 

Mawe,  Leonard,  Letter  to  Lord  Holland.  1629.  Pre- 
served in  the  British  Record  Office. 

Motley,  John,  A  compleat  list  of  all  the  English  Dra- 
matic Poets.  Published  in  the  volume  with 
Scanderbeg  by  Thomas  Whincop.  London,  1747. 

Visitation  of  Northamptonshire  made  in  the  years  1682— 
86.  Not  Printed.  There  is  a  copy  in  the  New 
York  Public  Library. 

Winstanley,  William,  The  lives  of  the  most  famous 
English  poets.  London,  1687. 

Wood,  Anthony  a,  Athenae  Oxonienses  ...  to  which 
is  added  the  Fasti.  Edited  by  Philip  Bliss.  Lon- 
don, 1813-20. 


TO    THE    MEMORY    OF 

HIS    DEARE    BROTHER 

Mr  THO.  RANDOLPH. 

IN  such  a  solemne  traine  of  freinds  that  sing 
Thy  Dirge  in  pious  lines,  and  sadly  bring 
Religious  Anthemes  to  attend  thy  Hearse, 
Striving  t'embalme  thy  precious  name  in  verse: 
I,  that  should  most,  have  no  more  power  to  raise 
Trophies  to  thee,  or  bring  one  graine  of  praise 
To  crowne  thy  Altar,  then  the  Orbes  dispence 
Motion  without  their  sole  Intelligence. 
For  I  confesse  that  power  which  workes  in  mee 
Is  but  a  weake  resultance  tooke  from  thee; 
And  if  some  scatter'd  seeds  of  heate  divine 
Flame  in  my  brest,  they  are  deriv'd  from  thine: 
And  these  low  sickly  numbers  must  be  such, 
As  when  steel  moves,  the  Loadstone  gives  the  touch. 
So  like  a  spungy  cloud  that  sucks  up  raine 
From  the  fat  soile  to  send  it  back  againe; 
There  may  be  now  from  me  some  language  showne 
To  urge  thy  merit,  but  'twas  first  thy  owne: 
For  though  the  Doners  influence  be  past 
For  new  effects,  the  old  impressions  last. 
As  in  a  bleeding  trunk  we  oft  descry 
Leaps  in  the  head,  and  rowlings  in  the  eye, 
By  vertue  of  some  spirits,  that  alone 
Doe  tune  those  Organs  though  the  soule  be  gone. 
But  since  I  adde  unto  this  generall  noise 
Only  weake  sounds,  and  Echoes  of  thy  voice; 
Be  this  a  taske  for  deeper  mouthes,  while  I 
That  cannot  bribe  the  Phansy,  thaw  the  eye: 
And  on  that  Grave  where  they  advance  thy  praise 
Doe  plant  a  sprigge  of  Cypresse  not  of  Bayes. 

47 


48  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Yet  flow  these  teares  not  that  thy  Reliques  sit 
Fix'd  to  their  cell  a  constant  Anchorit: 
Nor  am  I  stirr'd  that  thy  pale  ashes  have 
O're  the  darke  Climate  of  a  private  Grave 
No  faire  inscription:    such  distempers  flow 
From  poore  lay-thoughts,  whose  blindnesse  cannot  know 
That  to  discerning  Spirits  the  Grave  can  be 
But  a  large  wombe  to  Immortality: 
And  a  faire  vertuous  name  can  stand  alone 
Brasse  to  the  Tombe,  and  marble  to  the  Stone. 

No,  'tis  that  Ghostly  progeny  we  mourne, 
Which  carelesse  you  let  fall  into  the  Vrne: 
We  had  not  flow'd  with  such  a  lavish  tide 
Of  teares  and  greife,  had  not  those  Orphans  dy'd. 
For  what  had  been  my  losse,  who  reading  thine, 
A  Brother  might  haue  kiss'd  in  every  line. 

These  that  are  left,  Posterity  must  have; 
Whom  a  strict  care  hath  rescu'd  from  the  Grave 
To  gather  strength  by  Vnion;    as  the  beames 
Of  the  bright  Sunne  shot  forth  in  severall  streames, 
And  thinly  scatter'd  with  lesse  fervour  passe, 
Which  cause  a  flame  contracted  in  a  Glasse. 
These,  if  they  cannot  much  advance  thy  fame, 
May  stand  dumbe  Statues  to  preserve  thy  name: 
And  like  Sun-dialls  to  a  day  that's  gone, 
Though  poore  in  use,  can  tell  there  was  a  Sunne. 

Yet  (if  a  faire  confession  plant  no  Bayes, 
Nor  modest  truth  conceiv'd  a  lavish  praise) 
I  could  to  thy  great  glory  tell  this  age 
Not  one  invenom'd  line  doth  swell  the  page 
With  guilty  legends;    but  so  cleare  from  all 
That  shoot  malicious  noise,  and  vomit  gall, 
That  'tis  observ'd  in  every  leafe  of  thine, 
Thou  hast  not  scatter'd  snakes  in  any  line. 
Here  are  no  remnants  tortur'd  into  rime 
To  gull  the  reeling  judgments  of  the  time; 
Nor  any  stale  reversions  patch  thy  writ 
Gleand  from  the  ragges  and  frippery  of  wit. 
Each  syllable  doth  here  as  truly  runne 
Thine,  as  the  light  is  proper  to  the  Sunne. 
Nay  in  those  feebler  lines  which  thy  last  breath 
And  labouring  brains  snatch'd  from  the  skirts  of  death 
Though  not  so  strongly  pure,  we  may  descry 
The  father  in  his  last  posterity, 


JNTRODUCTORr  POEMS  49 

As  clearly  showne,  as  Virgins  looks  doe  passe 

Through  a  thinne  lawne,  or  shaddowes  in  a  glasse: 

And  in  thy  setting,  as  the  Suns,  confesse, 

The  same  large  brightnesse,  though  the  heate  be  lesse. 

Such  native  sweetnesse  flowes  in  every  line, 

The  Reader  cannot  choose  but  sweare  'tis  thine. 

Though  I  can  tell  a  rugged  sect  there  is 
Of  some  fly-wits  will  judge  a  squint  on  this; 
And  from  thy  easy  flux  of  language  guesse 
The  fancies  weake,  because  the  noise  is  lesse; 
As  if  that  Channell  which  doth  smoothly  glide 
With  even  streames  flow'd  with  a  shallow  tide. 
But  let  a  quick-discerning  judgment  looke, 
And  with  a  peircing  eye  untwist  thy  book 
In  every  loome,  I  know  the  second  veiw 
Shall  finde  more  lustre  then  the  first  could  doe. 
For  have  you  scene  when  gazing  on  the  skies 
With  strict  survey  a  new  succession  rise 
Of  severall  starres,  which  doe  not  so  appeare 
To  every  formall  glance  that  shootes  up  there: 
So  when  the  serious  eye  has  firmly  been 
Fix'd  on  the  page,  such  large  increase  is  seen 
Of  various  fancy,  that  each  severall  veiw 
Makes  the  same  fruitful!  book  a  Mart  of  new. 

But  I  forbeare  this  mention;    since  I  must 
Ransack  thy  ashes,  and  revile  thy  dust 
With  such  low  characters,  I  mean  to  raise 
Thee  to  my  contemplation,  not  my  praise: 
And  they  that  wish  thy  Picture  clearly  showne 
In  a  true  Glasse,  I  wish  would  use  thy  owne: 
Where  I  presume  how  e're  thy  vertues  come 
111  shap'd  abroad,  th'art  fairly  drest  at  home. 

Ro.    RANDOLPH.    M.  A.    Student  of  C.  Church. 


Lectori  nimium  critico  qui  Authoris  Fescenni- 
nos  sales  plus  justo  rigidus  interpretatur. 

D  Extra  quid  Archetypes  nudas  mysteria  charta? 
Privatiqiu  aperis  limina  clausa  joci? 
Non  lucem  patitur  sed  caelebs  margo  venenum, 
Et  vidtt  ingenuis  toxica  mista  jocis. 


50  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Quceque  stolata  dedit  sanctus  Floralia  vates, 

Exuis,  y  nudos  das  sine  veste  sales. 
Hinc  tota  immeritam  jugulat  censura  papyrum, 

Et  levis  ingenuos  damnat  arundo  sales. 
Carnifices  calamos  y  raucce  jurgia  Musce 

Simplicitas  casti  sentit  honesta  libri. 
Quid  culpa  fuerit  si  vatis  amabile  carmen 

Lascivam  casto  scbemate  lusit  anum? 
Lintea  si  nudis  iniecit  pulcbra  pudendis? 

Vel  tegit  incastam  larva  modesta  Deam? 
Nulla  tuis  regnant  nisi  nomina  mascula  cbartis, 

Si  quod  fcemineum  est  culpa  legentis  erit; 
(Ft  proles,  uteri  prime  qui  claustra  reliquit, 

Mascula,  fcemineum  vidimus  arte  Sporum.) 
Das  tbalami  lusus  cortina  at  tegmine  sanctos, 

Cynthia  quos  lectos  gestiat  esse  suos. 
Dii  bent,  quam  sanctis  loquitur  Venus  impia  verbis? 

Tyndaris  £f?  raptus  bic  stupet  esse  pios. 
Lecta  puella  tuis  dum  spectat  crimina  chartis, 

Visa  sibi  est  furto  sanctior  ire  suo. 
I  nunc  ingenuce  parcas  lex  lulia  charta, 

Scripta  librum  dederat,  lecta  lupanar  erat. 

Ro.    RANDOLPH,     ex  ^Ede  Christi. 


BLest  Spirit,  when  I  first  did  see 
The  Genius  of  thy  Poetrie, 

Nimble  and  fluent;    in  a  straine 

Even  with,  if  not  beyond  the  braine 

Of  Laureats  that  crown'd  the  stage, 

And  liv'd  the  wonders  of  the  age: 

And  this  but  sparkles  from  a  fire 

That  fiam'd  up,  and  soar'd  much  higher; 

I  gaz'd  desierous  to  see 

Whither  thy  wit  would  carry  thee. 
Thy  first  rise  was  so  high,  that  even 
As  needs  it  must,  the  next  was  heaven. 

I.  T.  A.  M. 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  51 


In  Authorem 

CAnescant  alii,  sterilique  atatis  honore 
Latentur;  fecit  te  tua  Musa  senem. 
Parcarum  labor  est  vita  mensura  peracta: 
Tfxuntur  propria  stamina  vtstra  manu; 
Felix  qui  primo  excedis,  Randolphf,  sub  avo, 

Nee  Genii  extincti  pr&via  fata  vides; 

Dii  bene  non  dederint  effcetae  frigora  vita: 

Debts  quo  fueras  natus  in  igne  mori. 

THO.   T  E  R  R  E  N  T,   M.  A.   ex 
Christ! : 


V-pon  M1  Randolph's  Poems,  collected  and 
published  after  his  Death. 

AS  when  a  swelling  Cloud  melted  to  showres, 
Sweetly  diffuses  fresh  and  active  powers 
Into  the  shrunke  and  thirstie  veines  of  earth; 
Blessing  her  barren  wombe  with  a  new  birth 
Of  graine  and  fruit:    and  so  redeemes  a  land 
Of  desperate  people  from  th'  destroying  hand 
Of  merc'lesse  Plague,  Famine,  or  Dearth;    and  then 
Collects  it's  streames  unto  the  Ocean: 

So  thy  diffusive  soule,  and  fluent  parts, 
(Great  miracle  of  naturall  wit  and  Arts,) 
Rapt  up  some  Regions  'bove  our  Spheare,  did  flow 
And  showre  their  blessings  downe  on  us  below: 
Whilst  we,  dull  earth,  in  extasies  did  sit, 
Almost  o'rewhelmed  with  thy  Flouds  of  Wit. 
What  bloud  of  verse  is  pump't  from  our  dry  Braines, 
Sprung  like  a  rushing  Torrent  from  thy  Veines. 
When  a  long  Drought  presag'd  some  fatall  Dearth, 
Thy  unexhausted  Founts  gave  us  new  byrth 
Of  Wit  and  verse:    when  Cham,  or  Isis  fell, 
Thy  open'd  Floudgates  made  their  Riv'lets  swell 
'Bove  their  proud  Banks:    Where  planted  by  thy  hand 
Th'  Hesperian  Orchards,  Paphian  Myrtles  stand, 
And  those  sweet  Shades,  where  Lovers  tell  their  blisses 
To'  th'  whisp'ring  leaves,  and  summe  'em  up  in  kisses. 


52  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

There  in  full  Quire  the  Muses  us'd  to  sing 
Melodious  Odes,  bathing  in  Cham,  their  Spring: 
And  all  the  Graces,  TOM,  dwelt  with  thee  too, 
Crowning  thy  Front  for  old  Citberons  Brow. 

Nor  were  we  rich  alone;    Climes  farre  from  hence 
Acknowledge  yet  thy  soveraigne  influence: 
Sicilians  owe  to  thee  their  fruitfull  Vale, 
And  Cotswold  Hill  thy  Dewes  created  Dale. 
All  Lands  and  Soyles  from  hence  were  fruitfull  growne, 
And  multipli'd  the  measures  thou  hadst  sowne. 
Green-sword-untilled  milk-maids  wish  no  blisses 
Beyond  a  stammel  Petticoat,  and  kisses, 
And  thy  sweet  Dowry  \    This  alone,  they  cry, 
Will  make  our  Beasts  and  Milk  to  multiply. 
And  the  dull  Fallow  Clownes,  who  never  thought 
Of  God  or  Heaven  but  in  a  floud  or  drought, 
Doe  gape  and  pray  for  Crops  of  Wit,  and  vow 
To  make  their  Lads  and  Wenches  Poets  now. 
For  they  can  make  their  fields  to  laugh  and  sing 
To  th'  Muses  Pipe,  and  Winter  rhime  to  spring. 
They  pray  for  the  first  curse;    like  Schollers  now, 
To  earne  their  livings  by  their  sweaty  Brow. 
Then  the  fine  Gardens  of  the  Court,  are  set 
With  Flowers  sprung  from  thy  Muses  Coronet. 
Th9se  pretty  Imps  in  Plush,  that  on  trust  goe 
For  their  fine  clothes,  and  their  fine  Judgments  too, 
The  Frontispice  or  Titlepage  of  Playes, 
Whose  whole  discourse  is  —  As  the  Poet  sayes. 
That  Tavernes  draine,  (for  Ivy  is  the  signe 
Of  all  such  sack-shop  wits,  as  well  as  wine.) 
And  make  their  verses  dance  on  either  hand 
With  numerous  feet,  whilst  they  want  feet  to  stand. 
That  score  up  jests  for  every  glasse  or  cup, 
And  th'  totall  summe  behind  the  Doore  cast  up; 
These  had  beene  all  dry'd  up,  and  many  more, 
That  quaffe  up  Helicon  upon  thy  score. 
The  sneaking  Tribe,  that  drinke  and  write  by  fits, 
As  they  can  steale  or  borrow  coine  or  wits, 
That  Pandars  fee  for  Plots,  and  then  belie 
The  paper  with  —  An  excellent  Comedif, 
Acted  (more  was  the  pitty,)  by  th'  Red  Bull 
With  great  applause,  of  some  vaine  City  Gull; 
That  damne  Philosophy,  and  prove  the  curse 
Of  emptinesse,  both  in  the  Braine  and  Purse; 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  53 

These  that  scrape  legges  and  trenchers  to  my  Lord, 

Had  starv'd  but  for  some  scraps  pickt  from  thy  Bord. 

They'had  try'd  the  Balladiers  or  Fidlers  trade, 

Or  a  New  Comedie  at  Tiburne  made. 

Thus,  TOM  thy  pregnant  Phancy  crown'd  us  all 

With  wealthy  showers,  or  Mines  Poeticall. 

Nor  did  thy  dews  distill  in  a  cold  raine, 

But  with  a  flash  of  Lightning  op't  thy  Braine, 

Which  thaw'd  our  stupid  spirits  with  lively  heat, 

And  from  our  frosts  forc'd  a  Poeticke  sweat. 

And  now,  Wit's  Common-wealth  by  thee  repriv'd, 
(For  its  consumption  shewes  it  not  long  liv'd,) 
Thy  farre  dispersed  Streames  divert  their  course, 
(Though  some  are  damned  up)  to  th'  Muses  Sourse, 
This  Ocean:  —  He  that  will  fadome  it, 
By's  Lines  shall  sound  an  Ocean  of  wit; 
Not  shallow,  low,  and  troubled,  but  profound, 
And  vast,  though  in  these  narrow  limits  Bound. 
The  tribute  of  our  eyes  or  pens,  all  we  can  pay, 
Are  some  poore  drops  to  thy  Pactolus  Sea, 
And  first  stolne  thence,  though  now  so  muddy  growne 
With  our  fowle  channels,  they  scarce  seeme  thy  owne. 
Thus  have  I  scene  a  peice  of  Coine,  which  bore 
The  Image  of  my  King  or  Prince  before, 
New  cast 'into  some  Peasant,  loose  its  grace; 
Yet's  the  same  body  with  a  fowler  face. 
If  our  owne  store  must  pay;    that  Gold  which  was 
Lent  us  in  sterling  we  must  turne  in  brasse. 
Hadst  thou  writ  lesse  or  worse,  then  we  might  lay 
Something  upon  thy  Vrne  thou  didst  not  say: 
But  thou  hadst  Phansies  vast  Monopolie, 
Our  stocke  will  scarce  amount  t'an  Elegie! 
Yet  all  the  Legacies  thy  Fatall  day 
Bequeath'd,  thy  sad  Executour  will  pay. 

To  late  Divines  (by  Will  and  Testament) 
A  Paraphrase  on  each  Commandement, 
In  Morall  Precepts;    with  a  Disputation 
Ending  the  Quarrells  'bout  Predestination. 
To  those  that  study  how  to  spend  the  Day, 
And  yet  grow  wise  —  The  Ethicks  in  a  Play. 
To  Poets,  'cause  there  is  no  greater  curse, 
Thou  bequeathdst  —  Nothing,  in  thy  empty  Purse. 
To  City-Madams,  that  bespeak  new  faces 
For  every  Play  or  Feast,  Thy  Looking-glasses. 


54  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  to  their  chamber-maids,  who  only  can 
Adorne  their  Ladies  head,  and  dreame  on  man, 
Th'ast  left  a  Dowry;   They  till  now,  by  stealth 
Writ  only  members  of  the  Common-wealth. 
To  Heaven  thy  Ravish't  Soule,  (though  who  shall  look 
Will  say  it  lives  in  each  line  of  thy  Book.) 
Thy  Dust,  unnatural!  Reliques  that  could  die, 
To  Earth;    Thy  Fame  unto  Eternitie. 
A  Husband  to  thy  Widdow'd  Poetrie, 
Not  from  the  Court  but  Vniversitie. 
To  thy  sad  Aunt,  and  now  despairing  mother, 
Thy  litle  Orphans,  and  thy  younger  Brother; 
From  all  of  which  this  free  Confessions  fit, 
The  younger  sister  had  the  elder  Wit. 


Ad  Authorem. 

MOllia  qudd  tenui  currunt  mihi  carmina  filo, 
Et  meus  in  gyro  sift  breviore  labor, 
Dum  tua  constrictis  assurgit  Musa  Cotburnis, 

Et  Veneres  casto  tincit  Avena  loco, 
Cedimus  inculti!    Fato  par  Gloria  nostro 
Quod  Tua  mirentur  Carmina,  Nostra  Itgant. 

R.     B  R  I  D  E  -  O  A  K  E.     A.  M.     No.    Coll. 


WHat  need  thy  book  crave  any  other  fame, 
It  is  enough  that  it  beares  Randolphs  name. 
Who  sees  the  title,  and  him  understood, 
Must  much  condemne  himselfe,  or  say  tis  good. 
Goe  forth  example  to  the  Neophyte, 
Who  hence  should  learne  to  Catechize  his  wit. 
And  dresse  his  Phancy  by  this  glasse:    whose  Muse 
Welfavour'd  is,  should  here  her  face  peruse, 
It  will  not  flatter,  'twill  reflect  the  grace 
She  takes  from  th'  owner  of  a  beuteous  face: 
But  if  a  menstruous,  and  illiterate  eye 
Blast  her,  the  various  specks  shall  soone  descry 
The  foule  beholder,  and  proclaime  her  spoile 
Not  to  result  from  thence,  but  his  owne  soyle. 

ED.    G  A  Y  T  o  N.    M.  A.    loan. 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  5$ 

IMmortall  B  E  N  is  dead;    and  as  that  ball 
On  Ida  toss'd,  so  is  his  Crowne  by  all 
The  Infantry  of  wit.     Vaine  Priests!    That  chaire 
Is  only  fit  for  his  true  Sonne  and  Heire. 
Reach  here  the  Lawrell:    Randolph,  'tis  thy  praise: 
Thy  naked  Scull  shall  well  become  the  Bayes. 
See,  Daphne  courts  thy  Ghost:    and  spite  of  fate,. 
Thy  Poems  shall  be  Poet  Laureat. 

G.    W.    Joan. 


To  bis  worthy  friend  Mr    ROBERT    RANDOLPH 
of  Ch.  Ch.  on  the  publishing  of  his 
Brothers  Poems. 

WE  thank,  you  worthy  sir,  that  tis  our  hap 
To  praise  even  Randolph  now  without  a  clap,. 
And  give  our  suffrage  yet,  though  not  our  voice, 
To  shew  the  odds  betwixt  his  fame  and  noyse: 
Whose  only  modesty  we  could  applaud, 
That  seldome  durst  presume  to  blush  abroad; 
And  bear  his  vast  Report,  and  setting  forth 
His  vertues,  grow  a  suff'rer  of  his  worth, 
Was  scarce  his  own  acquaintance,  and  did  use 
To  hear  himselfe  reported  but  as  newes, 
So  distant  from  himselfe,  that  one  might  dare 
To  say  those  two  were  nere  familiar: 
Whose  pollisht  Phancy  hath  so  smoothly  wrought* 
That  'tis  suspected,  and  might  tempt  our  thought 
To  guesse  it  spent  in  every  birth,  so  writ 
Not  as  the  guift  but  Legacy  of  his  wit: 
Whose  unbid  braine  drops  so  much  flowing  worth, 
That  others  are  deliver'd,  he  brought  forth; 
That  did  not  course  in  wit,  and  beat  at  least 
Ten  lines  in  fallow  to  put  up  one  lest; 
Which  still  prevents  our  thought,  we  need  not  stay- 
To  th'end,  the  Epigram  is  in  the  way. 
The  Towne  might  here  grow  Poet,  nay  tis  se'd 
Some  Mayors  could  hence  as  eas'ly  rime  as   read; 
Whose  losse  we  so  much  weepe,  we  cannot  heare 
His  very  Comedy's  without  a  teare; 
And  when  we  read  his  mirth,  are  faine  to  pray 
Leave  from  our  griefe  to  call  the  worke  a  play: 


56  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Where  fancy  plaies  with  judgement,  and  so  fits 

That  'tis  enough  to  make  a  guard  of  wits; 

Where  lines  fulfill  themselues,  and  are  so  right 

That  but  a  combats  mention  is  a  fight. 

His  phrase  does  bring  to  passe,  and  hee  has  lent 

Language  enough  to  give  the  Things  Event; 

The  lines  pronounce  themselves,  and  we  may  say 

The  Actors  were  but  Echoes  of  the  Play: 

Me  thinkes  the  book  does  act,  and  we  not  doubt 

To  say  it  rather  Enters  then  Comes  out; 

Which  even  you  seeme  to  envy,  whose  device 

Has  made  it  viler  even  by  its  price, 

And  taught  its  value,  which  we  count  so  great 

That  when  we  buy  it  cheapest  we  but  cheat; 

And  when  upon  one  Page  we  blesse  our  look, 

How-ere  we  bargaine  we  have  gain'd  the  book; 

Fresh-men  in  this  are  forc't  to  have  their  right, 

And  'tis  no  purchase  though  'twere  sold  in  spight; 

So  doe  we  owe  you  still,  that  let  us  know 

He  gave  the  world  the  Playes,  and  you  the  Show. 

los.    HOWE.    Trin.  Coll.  OXON. 


On  bis  beloved  friend  the  Author  y 
and  his  ingenious  Poems, 

"\  7"\  7"Hat  need  these  busy  wits?  who  hath  a  Mine 
V      V     His  owne,  thus  rich,  needs  not  the  scatter'd  shine 

Of  lesser  heapes:    Day  dimmes  a  taper's  light: 

And  Lamps  are  uselesse,  where  there  is  no  night. 
Why  then  this  traine  of  writers?  forreigne  verse 

Can  adde  no  honour  to  a  Poet's  hearse, 

Whose  every  line,  which  he  to  paper  lent, 

Builds  for  himselfe  a  lasting  Monument. 

Brave  verse  this  priviledge  hath;    Though  all  be  dumbe, 

That  is  the  Authors  Epitaph  and  Tombe. 

Which  when  ambitious  Pyles,  th'  ostents  of  Pride, 

To  dust  shall  fall,  and  in  their  ruins  hide 

Their  then  no  more  remembred  Founders  Name: 

These  (like  Apollo  ever  young)  shall  fame 

The  first  composer;    whose  weigh'd  workes  shall  tell 

What  Noble  thoughts  did  in  his  Bosome  dwell. 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  57 

But  now  I  find  the  cause:    they  that  doe  praise 
Desert  in  others,  for  themselves  plant  Baies: 
For  he  that  praises  merit,  loves  it:    thus 
Hee's  good,  for  goodnesse  that's  solicitous. 
Else,  though  Hee  diamonds  keenly  pointed  write, 
They  but  proclaime  a  quainter  Hypocrite: 
Thus  in  the  future,  it  shall  honour  bee, 
That  men  shall  read  their  names  bound  up  with  thee. 
So  country  Moles,  that  would  at  Court  appeare, 
Intrude  some  Camels  traine  that  does  live  there. 
So  Creatures  that  had  drown'd  else,  did  imbarke 
With  Noah,  and  liv'd  by  being  in  his  Arke. 

Or  if  not  thus;    as  when  in  Royall  state 
Nobles  attend  Kings  to  inaugurate: 
Or  as  last  yeare  when  you  both  courts  did  see 
Beget  joyes  noone  in  th'Vniversity; 
All  the  learn'd  tribe  in  reverend  Habits  meet, 
As  if  the  Schooles  were  turn'd  into  the  street; 
Where  each  one  strove  such  duty  to  put  on, 
As  might  give  honour  to  their  own  Sunnes  Sunne. 
Such  honour  here  our  dimmer  pennes  would  have, 
In  pompe  to  wait  him  to  his  solemne  grave: 
Since  what  he  was,  his  own  fruits  better  show, 
Then  those  which  planted  here  by  others,  grow. 
Rich  jewels  in  themselves  such  lustre  cast, 
As  gold  about  them,  is  no  grace,  but  Wast. 

Such  was  his  Genius:    Like  the  eyes  quick  wink; 
Hee  could  write  sooner,  then  another  think. 
His  play  was  Fancies  flame,  a  lightning  wit, 
So  shot,  that  it  could  sooner  pierce,  then  hit. 
What  e're  he  pleas'd,  though  but  in  sport  to  prove, 
Appear'd  as  true,  as  pitty  dwells  with  love. 
Had  he  said  thus,  That  discreet  zeale  might  stan 
Both  with  the  lesuit,  and  the  Puritan, 
T'had  been  believ'd;    that  frost  from  heat  proceeds. 
That  chastity  from  ease,  and  fulnesse  breeds; 
That  women  ought  to  wooe,  as  Eve  at  first 
Woo'd  Man,  to  make  the  world,  and  man  accurst. 
All  would  be  taken  up  for  Truth:    and  sense 
Which  knew  Truth  coming,  would  not  going  hence. 

Had  he  maintain'd  Rich  Lucans  worke  had  been 
Meere  History;    there  would  no  pen  be  seen, 

Line  33.    stan]stand  '43,  ff. 


58  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

To  call  it  Poem.     If  for  C&sar  stood, 
Great  Pompey  should  be  neither  weak,  nor  Good. 
Oh!  had  he  liv'd  to  plead  the  craggy  Law, 
Which  now  unsetled  holds  the  world  in  awe, 
He  would  have  met  some  Ostracisme,  I  feare, 
Lest  he  had  charm'd  the  purple  ludge  to  erre. 

Nor  could  he  only  in  his  Native  speech 
Robe  his  ripe  thoughts;    but  even  the  Copious,  Rich, 
And  lofty  Greek,  with  Latine,  did  appeare 
In  him,  as  Orient  in  their  proper  sphere: 
That  when  in  them,  himselfe  he  pleas'd  t'expresse; 
The  ravisht  hearer,  could  not  but  confesse, 
He  might  as  well  old  Rome,  or  Athens  claime 
For  birth,  as  Britaine,  circled  with  the  Maine. 
'Tis  true,  we  have  these  languages  still  left; 
But  spoken,  as  apparrell  got  by  theft 
Is  worne:    disguis'd,  and  shadowed.     Had  hee 
Liv'd  but  with  us,  till  grave  maturity; 
Though  wee  should  ever  in  his  change  have  lost, 
Wee  might  have  gaind  enough  whereof  to  boast 
Our  nations  better  Genius;    but  now 
Or  hopes  are  nipt,  e're  they  began  to  blow. 
And  sure  I  am,  his  losse  must  needs  strike  deep, 
For  whom  in  verse,  thus  England*  Eye  doth  weepe. 
Whose  teares  thus  dew'd  upon  his  mournefull  dust 
I  will  not  longer  trouble.     They  that  must 
Carp  though  at  better  things;    let  them  only  read; 
These  Poems  here  will  strike  that  humour  dead. 
Which  I  should  praise  too:    but  in  them  I  see 
There  is  one  blemish;    for  he  hath  nam'd  mee. 
Else,  I'le  not  think  the  Reader  so  distrest 
In  wit:    but  that  he  will  admire  the  rest. 
Concluding  thence,  though  in  his  forenoon-youth, 
(And  what  I  now  shall  write  is  modest  truth,) 
He  knowes  not  him,  who  doth  so  much  excell, 
That  could  so  quickly,  doe  so  much,  so  well. 

OWEN    FELTHAM    Gent. 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  59 


On  the  death  of  Mr  Randolph. 

"Hen  Donne,  and  Beaumont  dyed,  an  Epitaph 

Some  men  (I  well  remember)  thought  unsafe; 
And  said  they  did  presume  to  write,  unlesse 
They  could  their  teares  in  their  expression  dresse. 
But  love  makes  me  more  bold,  and  telles  me  I 
In  humble  termes  to  vent  my  piety 
May  safely  dare;    and  reason  thinks  not  fit, 
For  which  I  lov'd,  I  now  should  feare  that  wit. 
Respect  lookes  like  a  bargaine,  if  confinde 
To  rules  precise;    and  is  more  just  then  kinde, 
If  by  a  poiz'd  and  equall  testament 
It  turnes  good-will,  into  a  covenant; 
Must  every  present  offer'd  to  a  Prince 
Be  just  proportion'd  to  his  eminence? 
Or  ought  my  Elegy  unjust  be  thought 
Because  I  cannot  mourne  thee  as  I  ought? 
Such  lawes  as  these,  (if  any  be  so  bold) 
Ought  those  unskilful!  but  proud  soules  to  hold, 
Who  think  they  could  and  did,  at  a  due  rate 
Love  thee;    not  mee,  whose  love  was  passionate, 
And  hath  decreed,  how  ere  the  censure  goe, 
Thus  much,  although  but  thus,  to  let  men  know. 
I  doe  admire  no  Comet  did  presage 
The  mournfull  period  of  thy  wonder'd  age; 
Or  that  no  Sybill  did  thy  death  fore  tell, 
Since  that  by  it  alone  more  ill  befell 
The  Laurell-God,  then  when  the  day  was  come 
Wherein  his  Delphick-Oracle  was  dumbe: 
In  meaner  wits  that  proverbe  chance  may  hold 
(That  they  which  are  soon  ripe  are  seldome  old) 
But  'twas  a  poore  one,  and  for  thee  unfit, 
Whose  infancy  might  teach  their  best  years  wit; 
Whose  talk  was  exemplary  to  their  pains, 
And  whose  discourse  was  tutor  to  their  streines; 
If  thou  wert  serious,  then  the  audience 
Heard  Platoe's  works  in  Tullies  eloquence: 
If  sad,  the  mourners  knew  no  thrifty  size 
In  teares,  but  still  cri'd  out,  oh  lend  more  eyes. 
If  merry,  then  the  juyce  of  Comedy 
Soe  sweetned  every  word,  that  we  might  see 


60  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Each  stander  by  having  enough  to  doe 

To  temper  mirth,  untill  some  friend  could  wooe 

Thee  take  the  pains  to  write,  that  so  that  pressure 

Checking  thy  soules  quick  motions,  some  small  leasure 

Might  be  obtain'd  to  make  provision 

Of  breath,  against  the  next  Scens  action. 

I  could  goe  through  thy  works,  which  will  survive 

The  funerall  of  time;    and  gladly  strive 

Beyond  my  power,  to  make  that  love  appeare 

Which  after  death  is  best  seen  in  a  teare; 

But  praising  one,  I  should  dispraise  the  rest, 

Since  whatsoere  thou  didst,  was  still  the  best: 

Since  then  I  am  perswaded  that  in  thee 

Wit  at  her  acmie  was,  and  wee  shall  see 

Posterity  not  daring  to  aspire 

To  equalize,  but  only  to  admire 

Thee  as  their  archetype;    with  thought  of  thee 

Henceforth  I'le  thus  enrich  my  memory. 

While  others  count  from  Earth-quakes,  and  great  frost; 

And  say  i'th'  last  deare  yeare,  'twould  thus  much  cost. 

My  time-distinctions  this  shall  be  among, 

Since  wits-decay,  or  Randolph's  death,  —  so  long. 

R.   GOSTELOW.   Mr.  A.  Oxon. 


To  the  pious  Memory  of  my  deare  Brother 
in-Law  Ml  Thomas  Randolph. 

REaders,  prepare  your  Fayth;    who  truly  tells 
His  History,  must  needs  write  miracles. 
Hee  lisp'd  Wit  worthy  th'Presse,  as  if  that  hee 
Had  us'd  his  Cradle  as  a  Librarie. 
Some  of  these  Fruits  had  birth,  when  other  Boyes 
(His  Elders)  play'd  with  Nuts;    Books  were  his  Toyes. 
Hee  had  not  long  of  Playes  Spectatour  beene 
But  his  small  Feete  wore  Socks  fit  for  the  Scene. 
Hee  was  not  like  those  costive  Wits,  who  blot 
A  quire  of  paper  to  contrive  a  plot. 
And  e're  they  name  it,  crosse  it,  till  it  look 
Rased  with  wounds  like  an  old  Mercers  Book. 
What  pleas'd  this  yeare,  is  next  in  peices  torne, 
It  suffers  many  deaths  e're  it  be  borne. 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  6 1 

For  Humours  to  lye  leidger  they  are  scene 
Oft  in  a  Taverne,  and  a  Bowling-greene. 
They  doe  observe  each  place,  and  company, 
As  strictly  as  a  Traveller  or  Spie. 
And  deifying  dunghills,  seeme  t'adore 
The  scumme  of  people,  Watchman,  Changling,  Whore. 
To  know  the  vice,  and  ignorance  of  all, 
With  any  Ragges  they'le  drink  a  pot  of  Ale; 
Nay,  what  is  more  (a  strange  unusuall  thing 
With  Poets)  they  will  pay  the  reckoning; 
And  sit  with  patience  an  houre  by  th'  Heeles 
To  learne  the  Non-sence  of  the  Constables. 
Such  lig-like  flim-flams  being  got  to  make 
The  Rabble  laugh,  and  nut-cracking  forsake, 
They  goe  Home  (if  th'  have  any)  and  there  sit 
In  Gowne  and  Night-cap  looking  for  some  wit. 
E're  they  compose,  they  must  for  a  long  space 
Be  dieted,  as  Horses  for  the  race. 
They  must  not  Bacon,  Beefe,  or  Pudding  eate, 
A  jest  may  chance  be  starv'd  with  such  grosse  meate. 
The  Good  Houre  come,  and  their  Braine  tun'd,  they  write, 
But  slow  as  dying  men  their  Wills  indite. 
They  pen  by  drams  and  scruples,  from  their  quill 
Words  (although  dreggy)  flow  not,  but  distill. 
They  stare,  and  sowre  their  faces;  nay  to  vent 
The  Braines  they  eate  their  fingers  excrement: 
And  scratch  their  Heads,  as  if  they  were  about 
(Their  wit  so  hide-bound  is)  to  pull  it  out. 
Ev'ry  bald  speech  though  Comicall  it  bee 
To  their  rack'd  members  proves  a  Tragcedie. 
When  they  have  had  the  Counsell  of  some  freind, 
And  of  their  begging  Epilogue  made  an  end, 
Their  Play  salutes  the  world,  and  claimes  the  Stage 
For  its  inheritance,  being  now  of  Age. 

But  while  they  pump't  their  Phansy  day  and  night; 
Hee  nothing  harder  found  then  not  to  write. 
No  dyet  could  corrupt,  or  mend  his  straine; 
All  tempers  were  the  best  to  his  sure  Braine. 
He  could  with  raptures  captivate  the  King, 
Yet  not  endanger  Button,  or  Bandstring. 
Poems  from  him  gush'd  out  so  readily 
As  if  they'd  only  been  in's  Memory; 
Yet  are  they  with  as  marble  fancies  wrought, 
As  theirs  whose  pen  waits  for  the  thirteenth  thought. 


62  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

They  erre  who  say  things  quickly  done  soone  fade; 
Nature  and  Hee  all  in  an  Instant  made. 
Those  that  doe  measure  Fansies  by  the  glasse, 
And  dote  on  such  as  cost  more  time,  may  passe 
In  rank  with  Gulls,  whom  folly  doth  entice 
To  thinke  that  best  which  has  the  greatest  price. 
Who  poreing  on,  their  Spungy  Braine  still  squeeze, 
Neglect  the  creame,  and  only  save  the  Lees. 
Stopping  their  flying  quill,  they  clip  Fames  wing, 
Make  Helicon  a  puddle  that's  a  Spring. 

Nor  was  his  Hast  hoodwinkt;    his  Rage  was  wise, 
His  Fury  counsell  had,  his  rashnesse  eyes. 
Though  hee  (as  Engines  arrowes)  shot  forth  wit, 
Yet  aim'd  with  all  the  proper  marks  to  hit. 
His  Inke  ne're  stain'd  the  Surplice;    he  doth  right 
That  sometimes  takes  a  care  to  misse  the  White. 
Hee  turn'd  no  Scripture  phrase  into  a  jest; 
Hee  was  inspir'd  with  raptures,  not  possest. 

Some  Divelish  Poets  think  their  Muse  does  ill 
Vnlesse  their  verses  doe  prophane  or  kill. 
They  boldly  write  what  I  should  feare  to  thinke, 
Words  that  doe  pale  their  paper,  black  their  Inke. 
The  Titles  of  their  Satyrs  fright  some,  more 
Then  Lord  have  mercy  writ  upon  a  doore. 

Although  his  wit  was  sharp  as  others,  yet 
It  never  wounded;    thus  a  Razer  set 
In  a  wise  Barbers  hand  tickles  the  skin, 
And  leaves  a  smooth  not  carbonaded  chin. 
So  soveraigne  was  his  Phansy,  that  you'd  think 
His  quickning  pen  did  Balsam  drop  not  Inke. 
Read's  Elegies  and  you  will  see  his  praise 
Doth  many  soules  'fore  th'  Resurrection  raise. 
No  venom's  in  his  Book;    his  very  Snake 
You  may  as  safely  as  a  Flower  take. 
There's  none  needs  feare  to  surfet  with  his  phrase, 
He  has  no  Gyant  raptures  to  amaze 
And  torture  weake  capacities  with  wonder: 
He  (by  his  Laurell  guarded)  nere  did  thunder 
As  those  strong  bumbast  Wits,  whose  Poetrie 
Sounds  like  a  Charme,  or  Spanish  Pedigree. 
Who  with  their  Phancy  towring  'bove  the  Sun, 
Have  in  their  stile  Babells  confusion. 
If  puny  eyes  doe  read  their  verses,  they 
Will  think  'tis  Hebrew  writ  the  English  way. 


INTRODUCTORY  POEMS  63 

His  Lines  doe  runne  smooth  as  the  feet  of  time; 
Each  leafe  though  rich,  swells  not  with  gouty  rime. 
Here  is  no  thrum,  or  knot;    Arachne  ne're 
Weav'd  a  more  even  webb;    and  as  they  are 
Listed  for  smoothnesse,  so  in  this  againe 
That  each  Thread's  spun,  and  warp'd  by  his  own  braine. 

We  have  some  Poetasters,  who  although 
They  ne're  beyond  the  writing-Schoole  did  goe, 
Sit  at  Apollo's  Table,  when  as  they 
But  midwives  are,  not  Parents  to  a  Play. 
Were  they  betray'd,  they'd  be  each  Coblers  scoffe, 
Laught  at,  as  one  whose  Periwig's  blowne  off. 
Their  Braines  lye  all  in  Notes;    Lord!  how  they'd  looke 
If  they  should  chance  to  loose  their  Table-book! 
Their  Bayes,  like  Ivy,  cannot  mount  at  all 
But  by  some  neighbouring  tree,  or  joyning  wall. 

With  what  an  extasy  shall  we  behold 
This  Book,  which  is  no  Ghost  of  any  old 
Wormeaten  Authour;    heres  no  jest,  or  hint, 
But  had  his  Head  both  for  it's  Ore  an'  mint. 
Wer't  not  for  some  Translations,  none  could  know 
Whether  he  had  e're  look'd  in  Book  or  no. 
He  could  discourse  of  any  subject,  yet 
No  cold  premeditated  sence  repeat; 
As  he  that  nothing  at  the  Table  talkes, 
But  what  was  cook'd  in's  study  or  the  walkes; 
Whose  wit  (like  a  sun-diall)  only  can 
Goe  true  in  this,  or  that  Meridian. 
Each  Climate  was  to  him  his  proper  Spheare; 
You'd  think  he  had  been  brought  up  every  where. 

Was  he  at  Court?  his  Complements  would  be 
Rich  wrought  with  Phansies  best  embroderie; 
Which  the  spruse  Gallants  Echo  like  would  speake 
So  oft,  as  they'd  be  thread-bare  in  a  weeke. 
They  lov'd  even  his  Abuses,  the  same  jeere 
So  witty  'twas,  would  sting  and  please  their  eare. 

Read's  flowry  Pastoratts,  and  you  will  sweare 
Hee  was  not  lobnsons  only,  but  Pans  Heire. 
His  smooth  Amyntas  would  perswade  even  me 
To  think  he  alwaies  liv'd  in  Sicilie. 
Those  happier  Groves  that  shaded  him,  were  all 
As  Trees  of  knowledge,  and  Propheticall: 
Dodon's  were  but  the  type  of  them;    Leaves  were 
Books  in  old  time,  but  became  Schollers  here. 


64  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Had  he  liv'd  till  Westminster  Hall  was  seen 
In  Forrest  Townes,  perhaps  he  find  had  been. 
Whilst  others  made  Trees  Maypoles,  he  could  doe 
As  Orpheus  did,  and  make  them  Dancers  too. 

But  these  were  the  light  sports  of  his  spare  time; 
He  was  as  able  to  dispute,  as  rime. 
And  all  (two  gifts  ne're  joyn'd  before)  outwent 
As  well  in  Syllogisme  as  Complement. 
Who  looks  within  his  clearer  Glasse,  will  say 
At  once  he  writ  an  Ethick  Tract  and  Play. 
When  he  in  Cambridge  Schooles  did  moderate, 
(Truth  never  found  a  subtler  Advocate) 
He  had  as  many  Auditours,  as  those 

Who  preach,  their  mouths  being  Silenc'd,  through  the  Nose. 
The  Grave  Divines  stood  gazing,  as  if  there 
In  words  was  colour,  or  in  th'  eye  an  eare: 
To  heare  him  they  would  penetrate  each  other, 
Embrace  a  Throng,  and  love  a  noysome  smother. 
Though  Plodding  Pates  much  time  and  oyle  had  spent 
In  beating  out  an  obscure  Argument; 
He  could  untie,  not  break,  the  subtlest  knot 
Their  puzling  Art  could  weave;    nay  he  had  got 
The  trick  on't  so,  as  if  that  he  had  been 
Within  each  Braine,  and  the  nice  folding  seen. 
Who  went  to  th'  Schooles  Peripateticks,  came, 
If  he  disputed,  home  in  Plato's  name. 
His  Oppositions  were  as  Text;    some  le'd 
With  wonder,  thought  he  had  not  urg'd  but  read. 

Nor  was  his  ludgment  all  Philosophy: 
He  was  in  points  of  deepe  Divinitie 
Only  Not  Doctor;    his  true  Catho'lique  Braine 
The  Learning  of  a  Councell  did  containe. 

But  all  his  Works  are  lost,  his  Fire  is  out; 
These  are  but's  Ashes,  which  were  throwne  about 
And  now  rak'd  up  together;    all  wee  have 
With  pious  sacriledge  snatch'd  from  his  Grave 
Are  a  few  meteours;    which  may  make  it  se'd 
That  TOM  is  yet  alive,  but  Randolph's  dead. 

Thus  when  a  Merchant  posting  o're  the  sea 
With  his  rich  loaden  shippe  is  cast  away; 
Some  light  small  Wares  doe  swim  unto  the  shore, 
But  th'  great  and  solid  Prizes  ne're  rise  more. 

R  I  c.     WEST.    Sac.  of  Arts,  and  Student  of  Cbr.  Church. 


POEMS 

•CITH  THE 

M  V  S  E  S 

LOOKINGGLASSE 


AMYNTAS 


By  THOMAS  RANDOLPH   Matter  of  ArtJ 
and  late  Fellow  QtTrinity  ColJcdgc  in 
Ctmbriflgc. 


OXFORD, 

Prinredby LSONARD   LICHPIBIO  Printer 

tothc  Vmverfity,forFnAN  c  i  $  BOWMAM 

M.  DC.  XXXVIII. 


ON   THE 

INESTIMABLE 

CONTENT    HE    INIOYES 

IN  THE  MVSES;    TO  THOSE 

of  his  Friends  that  dehort  him 
from  POETRY. 

GOE  sordid  earth,  and  hope  not  to  bewitch 
My  high-borne  soule,  that  flies  a  nobler  pitch! 
Thou  canst  not  tempt  her  with  adulterate  show, 
She  beares  no  appetite  that  flaggs  so  low. 
Should  both  the  Indies  spread  their  lapps  to  me,       5 
And  court  my  eyes  to  wish  their  Treasurie, 
My  better  will  they  neither  could  entice; 
Nor  this  with  gold,  nor  that  with  all  her  spice. 
For  what  poore  things  had  these  possessions  showne, 
When  all  were  mine,  but  I  were  not  mine  owne!      10 
Others  in  pompous  wealth  their  thoughts  may  please, 
And  I  am  rich  in  wishing  none  of  these. 
For  say;   which  happinesse  would  you  beg  first, 
Still  to  have  drink,  or  never  to  haue  thirst? 
No  servants  on  my  beck  attendant  stand,  15 

Yet  are  my  passions  all  at  my  command; 
Reason  within  me  shall  sole  ruler  be, 
And  every  sense  shall  weare  her  livery. 

(6)  their]  my,  "40,  ff.  (7)  neither]  never  '43,  S,  (18)  her]  hit  '$». 

67 


68  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Lord  of  my  selfe  in  cheife;   when  they  that  have 

More  wealth,  make  that  their  Lord,  which  is  my  slaue.  20 

Yet  I  as  well  as  they,  with  more  content 

Have  in  my  selfe  a  Houshold  government. 

My  intellectuall  soule  hath  there  possest 

The  Stewards  place,  to  governe  all  the  rest. 

When  I  goe  forth  my  Eyes  two  Vshers  are,  25 

And  dutifully  walke  before  me  bare. 

My  Leggs  run  Footmen  by  me.     Goe  or  stand 

My  ready  Armes  waite  close  on  either  hand. 

My  Lipps  are  Porters  to  the  dangerous  dore: 

And  either  Eare  a  trusty  Auditor:  30 

And  when  abroad  I  goe,  Fancy  shall  be 

My  skilfull  Coachman,  and  shall  hurry  me 

Through  Heaven  &  Earth,  and  Neptune's  watry  plaine, 

And  in  a  moment  drive  me  back  againe. 

The  charge  of  all  my  Cellar,  Thirst,  is  thine;  35 

Thou  Butler  art  and  Yeoman  of  my  wine. 

Stomacke  the  Cooke,  whose  dishes  best  delight, 

Because  their  only  sawce  is  Appetite. 

My  other  Cooke  digestion;   where  to  me 

Teeth  carve,  and  Palat  will  the  taster  be.  40 

And  the  two  Eylids,  when  I  goe  to  sleepe, 

Like  carefull  groomes  my  silent  chamber  keepe. 

Where  least  a  cold  oppresse  my  vitall  part, 

A  gentle  fire  is  kindled  by  the  Heart. 

And  least  too  great  a  heat  procure  my  paine,  45 

The  Lungs  fanne  winde  to  coole  those  parts  againe. 

Within  the  inner  closet  of  my  braine 
Attend  the  nobler  members  of  my  traine. 
Invention  Master  of  my  Mint  growes  there, 
And  Memory  my  faithfull  Treasurer.  50 

(»5)  two]  too  '38.  (40)  crave  '52.  (48)  noble  '68. 


POEMS  69 

And  though  in  others  'tis  a  treacherous  part, 

My  Tongue  is  Secretary  to  my  heart. 

And  then  the  pages  of  my  soule  and  sense, 

Love,  Anger,  Pleasure,  Griefe,  Concupiscence, 

And  all  affections  else  are  taught  t'  obey  55 

Like  subjects,  not  like  favourites  to  sway. 

This  is  my  Manner-house,  and  men  shall  see 

I  here  live  Maister  of  my  family. 

Say  then  thou  man  of  worth;    in  what  degree 

May  thy  proud  fortunes  over-ballance  me?  60 

Thy  many  barks  plough  the  rough  Oceans  backe; 

And  I  am  never  frighted  with  a  wracke. 

Thy  flocks  of  sheepe  are  numberlesse  to  tell; 

And  with  one  fleece  I  can  be  cloth'd  as  well. 

Thou  hast  a  thousand  severall  farmes  to  let;  65 

And  I  doe  feede  on  ne're  a  Tenants  sweat. 

Thou  hast  the  Commons  to  Inclosure  brought; 

And  I  have  fixt  a  bound  to  my  vast  thought. 

Variety  is  sought  for  to  delight 

Thy  witty  and  ambitious  Appetite;  70 

Three  Elements,  at  least,  dispeopled  be, 

To  satisfie  judicious  gluttony: 

And  yet  for  this  I  love  my  Commons  here, 

Above  the  choicest  of  thy  dainty  cheere. 

Noe  widdowes  curse  caters  a  dish  of  mine,  75 

I  drinke  no  teares  of  Orphans  in  my  wine. 

Thou  maist  perchance  to  some  great  office  come, 

And  I  can  rule  a  Common  wealth  at  home. 

And  that  preheminence  injoy  more  free, 

Then  thou  puft  up  with  vaine  Authority.  80 

What  boots  it  him  a  large  command  to  have, 

Whose  every  part  is  some  poore  vices  slave? 

(59)  man  of  wealth;  '40  ff.  (61)  Ocean  '68.  (81)  ?]  !  "38. 


70  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Which  over  him  as  proudly  Lords  it  there, 

As  o' re  the  rusticke  he  can  domineere. 

Whilst  he  poore  swaines  doth  threat,  in  his  own  eyes  85 

Lust  and  Concupiscence  doe  Tyrannize, 

Ambition  wrackes  his  heart  with  jealous  feare, 

And  bastard  flattery  captivates  his  eare. 

He  on  posterity  may  fixe  his  care, 

And  I  can  study  on  the  times  that  were.  90 

He  stands  upon  a  pinacle  to  show 

His  dangerous  height,  whilst  I  sit  safe  below. 

Thy  father  hords  up  gold  for  thee  to  spend, 

When  death  will  play  the  office  of  a  friend, 

And  take  him  hence,  which  yet  he  thinkes  too  late:    95 

My  nothing  to  inherit  is  a  fate 

Above  thy  birth-right,  should  it  double  be; 

No  longing  expectation  tortures  me. 

I  can  my  fathers  reverend  head  survay, 

And  yet  not  wish  that  every  haire  were  gray.         100 

My  constant  Genius  sayes  I  happier  stand, 

And  richer  in  his  life,  then  in  his  land. 

And  when  thou  hast  an  heyre,  that  for  thy  gold 

Will  thinke  each  day  makes  thee  an  yeare  too  old; 

And  ever  gaping  to  possesse  thy  store,  105 

Conceives  thy  age  to  be  above  fourescore 

'Cause  his  is  one  and  twenty,  and  will  pray 

The  too  slow  houres  to  hast,  and  every  day 

Bespeake  thy  Coffin,  cursing  every  bell, 

That  he  heares  tole,  'cause  'tis  anothers  knell;        no 

(And  justly  at  thy  life  he  may  repine, 

For  his  is  but  a  wardship  during  thine.) 

(88)  flatt'ry  '68.  (104)  too]  to  '38. 

(100)  haire]  heir  "68.  (109)  Bespeakes  '68. 

(104)  an]  a  '43,  ff.  (112)  For]  But  '52. 


POEMS  71 

Mine  shall  have  no  such  thoughts,  if  I  have  one 

He  shall  be  more  a  pupill  then  a  sonne: 

^And  at  my  grave  weepe  truth,  and  say  deaths  hand, 115 

That  bountifully  unto  thine  gave  land, 

But  rob'd  him  of  a  Tutor;    Cursed  store! 

There  is  no  piety  but  amongst  the  poore. 

Goe  then  confesse  which  of  us  fathers  be 

The  happier  made  in  our  posterity:  120 

I  in  my  Orphane  that  hath  nought  beside 

His  vertue,  thou  in  thy  rich  parricide. 

Thou  severall  Artists  doest  imploy  to  show 

The  measure  of  thy  lands;    that  thou  maist  know 

How  much  of  earth  thou  hast:    while  I  doe  call      125 

My  thoughts  to  scan  how  little  'tis  in  all. 

Thou  hast  thy  hounds  to  hunt  the  timorous  hare, 

The  crafty  fox,  or  the  more  noble  deere; 

Till  at  a  fault  perchance  thy  Lordship  be, 

And  some  poore  citty  varlet  hunt  for  thee.  130 

For  'tis  not  poore  Actions  fault  alone; 

Hounds  have  devour'd  more  Masters  sure  then  one. 

Whilst  I  the  while  persueing  my  content, 

With  the  quicke  Nostrils  of  a  judgment,  sent 

The  hidden  steps  of  nature,  and  there  see  135 

Your  game  maintain'd  by  her  Antipathye. 

Thou  hast  a  Hawke,  and  to  that  height  doth  flye 

Thy  understanding,  if  it  scare  so  high: 

While  I  my  soule  with  Eagles  Pinions  wing, 

To  stoope  at  Heaven,  and  in  her  Talons  bring        140 

A  glorious  constellation,  sporting  there 

With  him  whose  belt  of  starres  adornes  the  spheare. 

Thou  hast  thy  landskips,  and  the  painters  try 

With  all  their  skill  to  please  thy  wanton  eye. 

(143)   lants-chipps  '40.  lants-chips  '64. 


72  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Here  shadowy  groves,  and  craggy  mountaines  there;  145 
Here  Rivers  headlong  fall,  there  springs  runne  cleare; 
The  heavens  bright  Raies  through  clouds  must  azure 

show 

Circled  about  with  Iris  gawdy  bow. 
And  what  of  this?     I  reall  Heavens  doe  see,  149 

True  springs,  true  groves;  whilst  yours  but  shadows  be. 
Nor  of  your  houshhold  stuffe  so  proudly  boast, 
Compos'd  of  curiosity  and  cost. 
Your  two  best  chambers  are  unfurnished, 
Th'  inner  and  upper  roome,  the  heart  and  head. 

But  you  will  say  the  comfort  of  a  life  155 

Is  in  the  partner  of  your  joyes,  a  wife. 
You  may  have  choice  of  brides,  you  need  not  wooe 
The  rich,  the  faire;    they  both  are  proferd  you: 
But  what  fond  virgin  will  my  love  preferre, 
That  only  in  Parnassus  joynture  her?  160 

Yet  thy  base  match  I  scorne,  an  honest  pride 
I  harbour  here  that  scornes  a  market  bride. 
Neglected  beauty  now  is  priz'd  by  gold, 
And  sacred  love  is  basely  bought  and  sold. 
Wives  are  growne  traffique,  marriage  is  a  trade,      165 
And  when  a  nuptiall  of  two  hearts  is  made, 
There  must  of  moneyes  too  a  wedding  be, 
That  coine  as  well  as  men  may  multiplye. 

O  humane  blindness!  had  we  eyes  to  see, 
There  is  no  wealth  to  valiant  poetry!  170 

And  yet  what  want  I  heaven  or  Earth  can  yeeld? 
Me  thinkes  I  now  possesse  th'  Elisian  field. 


(146)  there  the  springs  '68.  (160)  ?]  !  '38. 

(147)  most  azure  shrew '52.  (161)  an]  and' 68. 
(154)  heart]  breast  '52.  (167)  too]  to  '52,  ff. 

(156)  your]  our  '38.  (172)  the  Elisian  '38. 

(157)  brides]  birds,  '52. 


POEMS  73 

Into  my  chest  the  yellow  Tagus  flowes, 

While  my  plate  fleete  in  bright  Pactolus  rowes. 

Th*  Hesperian  Orchard's  mine;   mine,  mine  is  all:  175 

Thus  am  I  rich  in  wealth  poeticall. 

Why  strive  you  then  my  friends  to  circumvent 

My  soule,  and  rob  me  of  my  blest  content? 

Why  out  of  ignorant  love  counsell  you  me 

To  leave  the  Muses  and  my  poetry?  180 

Which  should  I  leave  and  never  follow  more, 

I  might  perchance  get  riches  and  be  poore. 

(175)  Orchard's  mine;  mine,  is  all  '43,  '52,  '64. 

Orchard  is  mine:  mine  is  all  '68. 
(180)  the]  my  '68. 

In  Anguem,  qui  Lycorin  dormientem 
amplexus  est. 

THe  spring  was  come,  and  all  the  fields  growne 
fine; 
My  flame  Lycoris  like  young  Proserpine 
Went  forth  to  gather  flowers,  bettring  their  sent 
They  tooke  more  sweetnesse  from  her,  then  they  lent. 
Now  loaden  with  her  harvest,  and  o'repress't  5 

With  her  sweet  toyle,  she  laid  her  downe  to  rest. 
Lyllies  did  strow  her  couch,  and  proud  were  growne 
To  beare  a  whitnesse  purer  then  their  owne. 
Roses  fell  down  soft  pillowes  to  her  head, 
And  blusht  themselves  into  a  deeper  red  10 

To  emulate  her  cheekes:   Flora  did  set 
Her  maids  to  worke  to  weave  the  Violet 
Into  a  purple  rugge,  to  shield  the  faire 
Lycoris  from  the  malice  of  the  Ayre. 

Lycorin]  Lycoris  in  '43,  '52,  '64.  do)  blusht]  blush  '68. 


74  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

When  loe  a  snake  hid  in  the  neighbour  bowres,        15 
(Ah  who  could  think  treason  should  lurke  in  flowers?) 
Shootes  forth  her  checker'd  skin,  and  gently  creepes 
Ore  my  Lycoris,  that  as  gently  sleepes. 
I  saw  it,  and  a  sodaine  frost  possest 
My  frighted  soule  in  my  then  troubled  brest.  20 

What  feares  appear'd  not  to  my  mind  and  me? 
Thou  first  wert  call'd  bemoan'd  Euridice, 
By  serpents  envy  forced  to  expire, 
From  Orpheus  rapt,  and  his  death  conquering  lyre. 
But  when  I  found  he  wore  a  guiltlesse  sting,  25 

And  more  of  love  did  then  of  treason  bring: 
How  quickly  could  my  former  feare  depart, 
And  to  a  greater  leave  my  iealous  heart! 
For  the  smooth  Viper  every  member  scands, 
Ajrick  he  loaths  now,  and  the  barren  sands  30 

That  nurst  him,  wondring  at  the  glorious  sight 
Of  thighes  and  belly,  and  her  brests  more  white 
Then  their  own  milke:  Ah  might  I  still  (quoth  he) 
Crawle  in  such  fields,  'twixt  two  such  mountaines  be! 
There  me  he  spied,  and  fearing  to  be  seen,  35 

Shrowds  to  her  neck,  thinking't  had  Lyllies  been. 
But  viewing  her  bright  cheekes,  he  soone  did  crye 
Vnder  you  Roses  shall  I  safer  lye. 
Thence  did  her  forehead  with  full  veines  appeare, 
Good  heaven  (quoth  he)  what  violets  growe  here          40 
On  this  cleare  Promontory?     Hence  he  slides 
Vp  to  her  lockes,  and  through  her  tresses  glides, 
Her  yellow  tresses;    dazel'd  to  behold 
A  glistering  groue,  an  intire  wood  of  Gold. 

(15)  neighbour]  neighboring  '68.  (38)  you]  yon  '43,  '64,  "68.          your  '52. 

(16)  could]  would  '68.  (41)  cltare]  clean  '68. 
(29)  scands]  scans  '68. 


POEMS  75 

Th'  Hesperian  wood  he  thinkes  he  now  hath  scene,  45 

That  thought,  but  now,  they  had  an  Orchard  beene; 

For  leaves  and  boughs  the  Arcbimenian  vine, 

The  Dodon  Oak  and  the  Tbessalian  Pine 

Must  yeeld  to  these,  no  trees  so  bright  as  they, 

Nor  Paphian  Mirtles,  nor  Peneian  bay!  50 

loy  now  filld  all  his  brest,  no  timorous  feare 

Of  danger  could  find  roome  to  harbour  there. 

Downe  slips  he  and  about  each  limbe  he  hurles 

His  wanton  body  into  numerous  curies. 

And  while  his  taile  had  throwne  it  selfe  a  chaine      55 

About  her  necke,  his  head  beares  up  againe; 

With  his  black  lips  her  warmer  lips  he  greets, 

And  there  with  kisses  steept  in  Nectar  meets. 

Thence  Zephyr's  breath  he  suckes,  then  doth  he  smell 

Perfumes  that  all  th'  Arabian  gummes  excell.  60 

And  spices  that  doe  build  the  Pbcenix  Pyre, 

When  she  renewes  her  youth  in  funerall  fire. 

Nor  seekes  he  poyson  there,  but  like  the  Bee 

That  on  mount  Hybla  plyes  her  husbandry, 

He  gathers  honey  thence,  now,  now  I  know  65 

With  Aristceus  flocks  a  snake  may  goe. 

Ah  cold  at  heart,  I  fear'd  some  heavenly  sleight, 

And  love  my  rival;    that  his  old  deceit 

Had  once  againe  this  borrowed  shape  put  on 

To  court  my  Nimph,  as  he  Dedis  wonne.  70 

Up  lift  the  snake  his  head  (for  pleasure  now 

Held  all  his  soule)  and  with  erected  brow 

To  flatter's  Loue  he  sung;    he  strives  to  play, 

And  hisses  forth  a  well  tun'd  Roundelay. 

This  wakes  the  Nymph;    her  eyes  admit  the  day;    75 

(45)  wood]  woods  '68.  (46)  But  '38. 

(49)  must  '38.  (70)  DeSis]  Dedis  '43,  '52.         as  he  had  Dedis  '64,  '68. 

(64)  ,]  .     '38.          (75)  admit]  admits  '68. 


76  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Here  flowers,  and  there  her  scattered  garlands  lay, 

Which  as  shee  picks  up  and  with  bents  retyes, 

Shee  in  her  lap  the  speckled  Serpent  spyes. 

The  Nymph  no  signe  of  any  terrour  shows, 

(How  bold  is  beauty  when  her  strength  shee  knows!)  80 

And  in  her  hand  the  tender  worm  she  grasp'd, 

While  it  sometimes  about  her  finger  clasp'd 

A  ring  enamel'd,  then  her  tender  wast 

In  manner  of  a  girdle  round  inbrac't; 

And  now  upon  her  arme  a  braslet  hung  85 

Where  for  the  greater  ornament,  he  flung 

His  limber  body  into  severall  folds, 

And  twenty  winding  figures,  where  it  holds 

Her  amorous  pulse,  in  many  a  various  twist, 

And  many  a  love-knot  tyes  upon  her  wrist.  90 

Lycoris  to  the  Gods  thou  art  too  deare, 

And  too  too  much  of  heaven  belov'd  I  feare. 

This  or  that  Nymph's  the  red-sea  spoiles  may  be, 

But  Lybia  ne're  sent  Jewels  but  to  thee. 

What  e're  to  us  are  deaths  and  poysons  sent,  95 

Desire  to  be  Lycoris  ornament. 

For  that  same  litle  spider  that  hangs  up, 

Together  with  her  web  on  the  house  top, 

When  shee  beheld  the  snake  a  bracelet  made, 

Struck  with  an  envy,  and  a  love;    she  said,  100 

And  shall  a  snake  thy  Gemme  Lycoris  bee, 

And  such  bright  forme  receive  no  tyres  from  mee? 

Then  flings  her  nets  away,  and  throwing  by 

Her  subtle  toyl  shee  sets  to  catch  the  fly; 

To  th*  loom  Arachne  goes,  and  plyes  it  there,         105 

To  work  a  robe  for  my  Lycoris  weare. 

(85)  arme]  om.  '52.         wait  '64.  (101)  thy]  a  '52. 

(86)  he]  she  '52.  (104)  the]  a  '68. 


POEMS  77 

But  thou,  6  Serpent,  which  so  blest  canst  bee 
To  reap  those  joys  for  which  I  envy  thee: 
That,  happy  worm,  upon  her  lip  hast  hung, 
Sucking  in  kisses  with  thy  three-fork'd  tongue,        no 
(So  may'st  thou  age  and  skin  together  cast, 
And  oft  recall  thy  youth,  when  it  is  past.) 
Teach  my  Lycoris  what  your  Arts  may  bee, 
Let  her  th'  Ingredients  of  thy  Cordials  see. 
That  shee  may  ne're  grow  old,  that  times  dull  plow 
May  never  print  a  wrincle  in  her  brow.  116 

I  charge  thee  in  the  powr'full  Cupids  name 
May  a  new  beauty  alwayes  and  the  same 
Lycoris  shew,  ne're  may  shee  in  her  glasse 
Look  for  her  own,  and  find  another  face.  120 

Venus  for  beauty  may  shee  then  appear, 
When  shee  has  liv'd  to  old  Sybillas  year, 
And  when,  deare  snake,  thou  wilt  no  more  renew 
Thy  youthfull  vigour,  bid  base  earth  adjew. 
Adde  glory  to  the  night,  or  from  his  spheare  125 

Huge  Python  pull  and  fix  thy  torches  there: 
Where  like  a  river  thou  shalt  bending  go, 
And  through  the  Orbe  a  starry  torrent  flow. 
And  thou  Lycoris,  when  th'art  pleas'd  to  take 
No  more  of  life,  next  thy  beloved  Snake  130 

Shine  forth  a  constellation,  full,  and  bright; 
Blesse  the  poor  heavens  with  more  majestick  light. 
Who  in  requitall  shall  present  you  there, 
Ariadnes  Crown,  and  Cassiop&as  Cbayr. 

(109)  her]  her  '38.         hast]  fast  '43,  9.          (120)  another]  another*  '43,  'S*t  '&*• 

(116)  in]  on  '64,  '68.  (125)  Adde]  And  '43,  ff. 

(117)  pow'rfull]  powerful '68. 


78  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

A  Complaint  against  Cupid  that  he  never 
made  him  in  Love. 

HOw  many  of  thy  Captives  (Love)  complaine 
Thou  yoak'st  thy  slaves  in  too  severe  a  chaine? 
P  have  heard  'em  their  Poetique  malice  shew, 
To  curse  thy  Quiver,  and  blaspheme  thy  bow. 
Calling  thee  boy,  and  blind;    threatning  the  rod;        5 
Prophanely  swearing  that  thou  art  no  God. 
Or  if  thou  be;    not  from  the  starry  place; 
But  born  below,  and  of  the  Stygian  race. 
But  yet  these  Atheists  that  thy  shafts  dislike, 
Thou  canst  be  freindly  to,  and  daigne  to  strike.        10 
This  on  his  Claris  spends  his  thoughts  and  time; 
That  chaunts  Corinna  in  his  amorous  rime. 
A  third  speaks  raptures,  and  hath  gaind  a  wit 
By  praising  Ccelia;   else  had  mis't  of  it. 
But  that  I  think  there  can  no  freedom  be,  15 

(Cupid]  so  sweet,  as  thy  Captivity. 
I  that  could  wish  thy  chains,  and  live  content 
To  wear  them,  not  my  Gives,  but  ornament: 
I  that  could  any  ransom  pay  to  thee, 
Not  to  redeem  but  sell  my  liberty,  20 

I  am  neglected;   let  the  cause  be  known; 
Art  thou  a  niggard  of  thy  arrows  grown, 
That  wert  so  prodigall?  or  dost  thou  please 
To  set  thy  Pillars  up  with  Hercules 
Weary  of  conquest?  or  should  I  disgrace  25 

Thy  victories,  if  I  were  daign'd  a  place 

(3)  I'  have]  I  have  '40.  '43,  '$2.  '64.         I've  '68. 

(18)  my]  thy  '40,  ff. 

(20)  ,]  ;  '38.  •  (22)  Art  thou  niggard  '68. 


POEMS  79 

Amongst  thy  other  Trophies?  none  of  these, 

Witnesse  thy  dayly  triumphs:    who  but  sees 

Thou  still  pursuest  thy  game  from  high  to  low; 

No  age,  no  Sexe  can  scape  thy  pow'rfull  bow.  30 

Decrepite  age  whose  veins  and  bones  may  bee 

An  Argument  against  Philosophy, 

To  prove  an  emptinesse;    that  has  no  sense 

Left  but  his  feeling,  feels  thy  influence; 

And  dying  dotes:    not  babes  thy  shafts  can  misse;  35 

How  quickly  Infants  can  be  taught  to  kisse! 

As  the  poor  Apes  being  dumb  these  words  would  borrow, 

/'  was  born  to  day  to  get  a  babe  to  morrow. 

Each  plow-man  thy  propitious  wounds  can  prove, 

Tilling  the  earth,  and  wishing  t'were  his  love.  40 

Am  I  invulnerable?  is  the  dart 

Rebeaten,  which  thou  level'st  at  my  heart? 

Ill  rest  my  Parents  bones,  if  they  have  done 

As  Tethis  once  did  to  her  God-like  sonne 

The  great  Achilles,  dipt  in  Stygian  lake;  45 

Though  I  am  so,  Cupid,  thy  arrows  take, 

Try  where  I  am  not  proof,  and  let  me  feel 

Thy  archery,  if  not  i'th  heart,  i'th  heel. 

Perchance  my  heart  lyes  there;   who  would  not  be 

A  Coward,  to  be  valiant  made  by  thee.  50 

I  cannot  say  thy  blindnesse  is  the  cause, 

That  I  am  barr'd  the  freedom  of  thy  laws; 

The  wretched  out-Law  of  thy  Mothers  Court, 

That  place  of  comfort,  Paradise  of  sport. 

For  they  may  say,  that  say  thou  blind  canst  be,      55 

Eagles  want  eyes,  and  only  moles  can  see. 

(30)  powerfull  '43,  ff-  (44)   Tethis']  Thetis  '68. 

(36)  can]  may  '68.  (50)  .]  ?  '64,  '68. 

(38)  /  was  '43,  if.  (52)  barr'd]  bard  '68         laws]  layes  '68. 

(43)  111]  Tie  '43. 


80  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Not  Argus  with  so  many  lights  did  shine, 

For  each  fair  Ladies  sparkling  eyes  are  thine. 

Think' st  thou  because  I  doe  the  Muses  love, 

I  in  thy  Camp  would  a  faint  souldier  prove?  60 

How  came  Mus&us,  and  Anacreon  then 

Into  thy  troops?  how  came  Tibullus  pen 

Amongst  thy  speares;    and  how  came  Ovid  (say) 

To  be  enrold  great  Generall  in  thy  pay? 

And  doubts  thou  me?  suspect  you  I  will  tell  65 

The  hidden  misteries  of  your  Papbian  cell, 

To  the  straight  lac'd  Diana?  or  betray 

The  secrets  of  the  night,  unto  the  day? 

No  Cupid,  by  thy  mothers  doves  I  swear, 

And  by  her  sparrows,  'tis  an  idle  fear.  70 

If  Philomel  descend  to  sport  with  me, 

Know  I  can  be  (great  Love)  as  dumb  as  shee, 

Though  shee  hath  lost  her  tongue;    in  such  delights 

All  should  be  like  her,  only  talk  by  nights: 

Make  me  thy  Preist  (if  Poets  truth  divine)  75 

Pie  make  the  Muses  wanton;    at  thy  shrine 

They  all  shall  wait;    and  Dian's  selfe  shall  be 

A  votresse  to  thy  Mothers  Nunnerie. 

Where  zeale  with  nature  shall  maintaine  no  strife; 

Where  none  swear  chastity,  and  single  life.  80 

To  Penus-Nuns  an  easier  oath  is  read, 

Shee  breaks  her  vow,  that  keeps  her  maiden  head. 

Reject  not  then  your  Flamins  ministry: 

Let  me  but  deacon  in  thy  Temples  be: 

And  see  how  I  shall  touch  my  pow'rfull  lyre,  85 

And  more  inspir'd  with  thine,  then  Phoebus  fire, 

Chaunt  such  a  moving  verse,  as  soon  should  frame 

Desire  of  dalliance  in  the  coyest  dame, 

(70)  Idle  '38.          (71)  ,]  ;  '38.          (79)  Where]  When  '52.          (88)  .]  ;  '38. 


POEMS  8 1 

Melting  to  amorous  thoughts  her  heart  of  stone, 

And  force  her  to  untrusse  her  Virgin  Zone.  90 

Is  Lucrece,  or  Penelope  alive? 

Give  me  a  Spartan  Matron,  Sabine  wife, 

Or  any  of  the  vestals  hither  call, 

And  I  will  make  them  be  thy  converts  all. 

Who  like  good  Proselites  more  in  heart  then  show,     95 

Shall  to  thy  origies  all  so  zealous  go, 

That  Thais  shall,  nor  Helen  such  appeare; 

As  if  they  only  Loves  precisians  were. 

But  now  my  Muse  dull  heavy  numbers  sings, 

Cupid  'tis  thou  alone  giv'st  verse  her  wings.  100 

The  Lawrell-wreath  I  never  shall  obtaine, 

Vnlesse  thy  torch  illuminate  my  braine. 

Love  Laurell  gives;    Phcebus  as  much  can  say, 

Had  not  he  lov'd,  there  had  not  been  the  Bay. 

Why  is  my  Presentation  then  put  by?  1.05 

Who  is't  that  my  Induction  dares  deny? 

Can  any  Lady  say  I  am  unfit? 

If,  so,  I'le  sue  my  Square  Impedit. 

I'am  young  enough,  my  spirits  quick  and  good; 

My  veins  swell  high  with  kind  and  active  blood.     110 

Nor  am  I  marble;   when  I  see  an  eye 

Quick,  bright,  and  full,  'raid  round  with  maiestie; 

I  feel  my  heart  with  a  strange  heat  opprest, 

As  'twere  a  lightning  darted  through  my  brest. 

I  long  not  for  the  cherries  on  the  Tree,  115 

So  much  as  those  which  in  a  lip  I  see. 

And  more  affection  beare  I  to  the  Rose 

That  in  a  cheek,  then  in  a  garden  grows. 

I  gaze  on  beauteous  Virgins  with  delight, 

And  feel  my  temper  vary  at  the  sight;  120 

(92)  .3  !  '38.         (109)  I'm  '43,  ff.  (112)  rai'd '40, '43, '52         rais'd  '64.  '68. 


82  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

I  know  not  why,  but  warmer  streams  doe  glide 

Thorough  my  veins,  sure  'tis  a  wanton  tide. 

But  you  perchance  esteem  my  love  the  lesse, 

Because  I  have  a  foolish  bashfulnesse, 

A  shame-fac'd  rose  you  find  within  my  face,  125 

Whose  modest  blush  frights  you  from  my  embrace; 

That's  ready  now  to  fall,  if  you'le  but  daigne 

To  pluck  it  once,  it  shall  not  grow  againe. 

Or  doe  you  therefore  cast  my  love  away, 

Because  I  am  not  expert  in  the  play?  130 

My  skill's  not  known  till  it  be  ventred  on; 

I  have  not  Aristotle  read  alone. 

I  am  in  Ovid  a  proficient  too; 

And  if  you'd  heare  my  Lecture,  could  to  you 

Analize  all  his  art,  with  so  much  more  135 

Judgment  and  skill,  then  e're  'twas  taught  before; 

That  I  might  be  cheife  master,  he,  dull  foole, 

The  under  usher  in  the  Cyprian  Schoole: 

For  petty  Paedagogue,  poore  Pedant,  he 

First  writ  the  Art,  and  then  the  remedie:  140 

But  I  could  set  downe  rules  of  love  so  sure, 

As  should  exceed  Art,  and  admit  no  cure. 

Pictures  I  could  invent  (Love,  were  I  thine) 

As  might  stand  copies  unto  Aretine. 

And  such  new  dalliance  study,  as  should  frame       145 

Variety  in  that  which  is  the  same. 

I  am  not  then  uncapable  (great  Love} 

Would'st  thou  my  skill  but  with  one  arrow  prove, 

Giue  me  a  Mistresse  in  whose  looks  to  joy, 

And  such  a  Mistresse  (Love)  as  will  be  coy,  150 

Not  easily  wonne,  though  to  be  wonne  in  time; 

That  from  her  nicenesse  I  may  store  my  rhime: 

(121)  why;  '38.      warmer]  warme  '68.          (136)  'twas]  was  '$2,  '68       before.,  '38. 


POEMS  83 

Then  in  a  Thousand  sighes,  to  thee  Tie  pay 
My  Morning  Orisons,  and  every  day 
Two    Thousand    groans,    and    count    these  amorous 
prayers,  155 

I  make  to  thee,  not  by  my  Beads,  but  Teares. 
Besides,  each  day  Tie  write  an  Elegy, 
And  in  as  lamentable  Poetry 
As  any  Inns  of  Court-man,  that  hath  gone 
To  buy  an  Ovid  with  a  Littleton.  160 

But  (Love}  I  see  you  will  not  entertaine 
Those  that  desire  to  Live  amidst  your  traine; 
For  death  and  you  have  got  a  trick  to  fly 
From  such  poore  wretches  as  doe  wish  you  nigh. 
You  scorne  a  yeelding  slave,  and  plainly  shew  it,     165 
Those  that  contemne  your  pow'er  you  make  to  know  it. 

And  such  am  I;    I  slight  your  proud  commands; 
I  mar'le  who  put  a  bow  into  your  hands; 
A  hobby-horse,  or  some  such  pretty  toy, 
A  rattle  would  befit  you  better,  Boy.  170 

You  conquer  Gods  and  men?  how  stand  I  free, 
That  will  acknowledge  no  supremacie 
Vnto  your  childish  Godhead?  does  it  cry? 
Give  it  a  plumme  to  still  it's  deity. 
Good  Venus  let  it  suck;   that  it  may  keep  175 

Lesse  bawling;   gentle  Nurse  rock  it  a  sleep. 
Or  if  you  be  past  babie;    and  are  now 
Come  to  weare  breeches,  must  we  then  allow 
Your  Boyship  leave  to  shoot  at  whom  you  please? 
No,  whip  it  for  such  wanton  tricks  as  these:  180 

If  this  doe  anger  you,  Fie  send  a  Bee, 
Shall  to  a  single  duell  challenge  thee: 

(153)  sights  '68.  (168)  marie  '40,  S.        who]  you  '52. 

(166)  power  '40,  ff.  (176)  brawling  '43,  '52. 


84  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  make  you  to  your  Mam  run,  and  complaine 

The  little  serpent  stung  thee  once  againe. 

Go  hunt  the  butter  flyes,  and  if  you  can  185 

But  catch  'em,  make  their  wings  into  a  fan. 

Wee'le  give  you  leave  to  hunt  and  sport  at  them, 

So  you  let  men  alone.     But  I  blaspheme 

(Great  Love)  I  feare  I  have  offended  thee, 

If  so,  be  mercifull,  and  punish  me.  190 

(184)  litlle  '38        litle  '40. 

(188)  alone, "43,  '64,  '68  let  me  alone, '52 

( I9o)mercifull,  -  -  '40  '43,  '64,  '68      '52. 


A  gratulatory  to  MT  Ben  Johnson  for  bis 
adopting  of  him  to  be  bis  Son. 

I  Was  not  borne  to  Helicon,  nor  dare 
Presume  to  thinke  my  selfe  a  Muses  heire. 
I  have  no  title  to  Parnassus  hill, 
Nor  any  acre  of  it  by  the  will 

Of  a  dead  Ancestour,  nor  could  I  bee  5 

Ought  but  a  tenant  unto  Poetrie. 
But  thy  Adoption  quits  me  of  all  feare, 
And  makes  me  challenge  a  childs  portion  there. 
I  am  a  kinne  to  Heroes  being  thine, 
And  part  of  my  alliance  is  divine.  10 

Orpheus,  Musceus,  Homer  too;    beside 
Thy  Brothers  by  the  Roman  Mothers  side; 
As  Ovid,  Virgil,  and  the  Latine  Lyre, 
That  is  so  like  thee,  Horace;    the  whole  quire 

•  of}  om.  '52.  (9)  Hero's  '38.  (14)  thy  Horace;  '38. 


POEMS  85 

Of  Poets  are  by  thy  Adoption,  all  15 

My  uncles;    thou  hast  given  me  pow'r  to  call 

Pbcebus  himselfe  my  grandsire;    by  this  graunt 

Each  Sister  of  the  nine  is  made  my  Aunt. 

Go  you  that  reckon  from  a  large  descent 

Your  lineall  Honours,  and  are  well  content  20 

To  glory  in  the  age  of  your  great  name, 

Though  on  a  Herralds  faith  you  build  the  same: 

I  do  not  envy  you,  nor  thinke  you  blest 

Though  you  may  beare  a  Gorgon  on  your  Crest 

By  direct  line  from  Perseus;    I  will  boast  25 

No  farther  than  my  Father;   that's  the  most 

I  can,  or  should  be  proud  of;    and  I  were 

Vnworthy  his  adoption,  if  that  here 

I  should  be  dully  modest;    boast  I  must 

Being  sonne  of  his  Adoption,  not  his  lust.  30 

And  to  say  truth,  that  which  is  best  in  mee 

May  call  you  father,  'twas  begot  by  thee. 

Have  I  a  sparke  of  that  coelestiall  flame 

Within  me,  I  confesse  I  stole  the  same 

Prometheus  like,  from  thee;    and  may  I  feed  35 

His  vulture,  when  I  dare  deny  the  deed. 

Many  more  moones  thou  hast,  that  shine  by  night, 

All  Bankrups,  wer't  not  for  a  borrow'd  light; 

Yet  can  forsweare  it;    I  the  debt  confesse, 

And  thinke  my  reputation  ne're  the  lesse.  40 

For  Father  let  me  be  resolv'd  by  you; 

Is't  a  disparagement  from  rich  Peru 

To  ravish  gold;   or  theft,  for  wealthy  Ore 

To  ransack  Tagus,  or  Pactolus  shore? 

Or  does  he  wrong  Alcinous,  that  for  want  45 

Doth  take  from  him  a  sprig  or  two,  to  plant 

(16)  power  '52,  '68.  (27)  should]  could  '64,  '68. 


86  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

A  lesser  Orchard?  sure  it  cannot  bee: 
Nor  is  it  theft  to  steale  some  flames  from  thee. 
Grant  this,  and  Tie  cry  guilty,  as  I  am, 
And  pay  a  filiall  reverence  to  thy  name.  50 

For  when  my  Muse  upon  obedient  knees, 
Askes  not  a  Fathers  blessing,  let  her  leese 
The  fame  of  this  Adoption;    'tis  a  curse 
I  wish  her  'cause  I  cannot  thinke  a  worse. 
And  here,  as  Piety  bids  me,  I  intreat  55 

Phcebus  to  lend  thee  some  of  his  own  heat, 
To  cure  thy  Palsie;    else  I  will  complaine 
He  has  no  skill  in  hearbs;    Poets  in  vaine 
Make  him  the  God  of  Physicke;    'twere  his  praise 
To  make  thee  as  immortall  as  thy  Baies;  60 

As  his  own  Daphne;   'twere  a  shame  to  see 
The  God,  not  love  his  Preist,  more  then  his  Tree. 
But  if  heaven  take  thee,  envying  us  thy  Lyre, 
'Tis  to  pen  Anthems  for  an  Angels  quire. 

(60)  thy]  the  '68. 


In  Lesbiam,  &  Histrionem. 

I  Wonder  what  should  Madam  Lesbia  meane 
To  keep  young  Histrio,  and  for  what  scene 
So  bravely  shee  maintaines  him;  that  what  sence 
He  please  to  blesse,  'tis  done  at  her  expence! 
The  play  boy  spends  secure;    he  shall  have  more,      5 
As  if  both  Indies  did  supply  his  store. 
As  if  he  did  in  bright  Pactolus  swim, 
Or  Tagus  yellow  waves  did  water  him: 
And  yet  has  no  revenews  to  defray 


POEMS  87 

These  charges,  but  the  Madam,  shee  must  pay         10 

His  prodigall  disbursements:    Madams  are 

To  such  as  he,  more  then  a  treble  share. 

Shee  payes  (which  is  more  then  shee  needs  to  doe) 

For  her  owne  comming  in,  and  for  his  too. 

This  is  reward  due  to  the  sacred  sin;  15 

No  charge  too  much  done  to  the  beardlesse  chin: 

Allthough  shee  stint  her  poore  old  Knight  Sr  John? 

To  live  upon  his  exhibition, 

His  hundred  marks  per  Annum;   when  her  loy, 

Her  sanguine  darling,  her  spruce  active  boy  20 

May  scatter  Angels;    rub  out  silks,  and  shine 

In  cloths  of  gold;    cry  loud  the  world  is  mine: 

Keepe  his  Race-nags,  and  in  Hide-parke  be  seen 

Briske  as  the  best   (as  if  the  stage  had  been 

Growne  the  Court's  Rivall)  can  to  Brackly  goe,        25 

To  Lincoln*  Race,  and  to  New-market  too; 

At  each  of  these  his  hundred  pounds  has  vie'd 

On  Peggabrigs,  or  Sbotten-berrings  side; 

And  looses  without  swearing.     Let  them  curse 

That  neither  have  a  Fortunatus  purse,  30 

Nor  such  a  Madam;    if  this  world  doe  hold 

(As  very  likely  'twill)  Madams  growne  old 

Will  be  the  best  Monopolies;    Histrio  may 

At  Maw,  or  Gleeke,  or  at  Primero  play. 

Still  Madam  goes  to  stake,  Histrio  knows  35 

Her  worth,  and  therefore  dices  too;    and  goes 

As  deepe,  the  Caster,  as  the  only  Sonne 

Of  a  dead  Alderman,  come  to  twenty  one 

A  whole  weeke  since;    you'd  know  the  reason  why 

Lesbia  does  this;    guesse  you  as  well  as  I;  40 

do)  charges:   '68.  (40)  as  I?  '64,  '68. 

(28)  Skotten  herring  '68. 


88  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Then  this  I  can  no  better  reason  tell; 

'Tis  'cause  he  playes  the  womans  part  so  well. 

I  see  old  Madams  are  not  only  toyle; 

No  tilth  so  fruitfull  as  a  barren  soyle. 

Ah  poore  day  labourers,  how  I  pitty  you  45 

That  shrinke,  and  sweat  to  live  with  much  adoe! 

When  had  you  wit  to  understand  the  right, 

'Twere  better  wages  to  have  work'd  by  night. 

Yet  some  that  resting  here,  doe  only  thinke 

That  youth  with  age  is  an  unequall  linke,  50 

Conclude  that  Histrws  taske  as  hard  must  bee, 

As  was  Mezentius  bloody  cruelty. 

Who  made  the  living  to  embrace  the  dead, 

And  so  expire:    but  I  am  rather  lead 

His  bargaine  of  the  two  the  best  to  call;  55 

He  at  one  game  keeps  her,  shee  him  at  all. 

(SO)  ,]  :    '38. 


De  Histrice.     Ex  Claudiano. 

FAm'd  Stympball,  I  have  heard,  thy  birds  in  flight 
Shoot  showers  of  arrowes  forth  all  levied  right. 
And  long  the  fable  of  those  quills  of  steele 
Did  seeme  to  me  a  tale  incredible. 
Now  I  have  faith;    the  Porcupine  I  see,  5 

And  then  th'  Herculean  birds  no  wonders  bee. 
Her  longer  head  like  a  swines  snowt  doth  show; 
Bristles  like  homes  upon  her  forehead  grow. 
A  fiery  heat  glows  from  her  flaming  eye; 
Vnder  her  shaggy  back  the  shape  doth  lye  10 

As  'twere  a  whelpe:    nature  all  Art  hath  try'd 
In  this  small  beast,  so  strangely  fortified. 


POEMS  89 

A  threatning  wood  o're  all  her  body  stands; 

And  stiff  with  Pikes  the  speckled  stalks  in  bands 

Grow  to  the  warre;    while  under  those  doth  rise       15 

An  other  troope,  girt  with  alternate  dyes 

Of  severall  hue;    which  while  a  blacke  doth  fill 

The  inward  space,  ends  in  a  solid  quill. 

That  lessning  by  degrees,  doth  in  a  while, 

Take  a  quick  point,  and  sharpens  to  a  Pile.  20 

Nor  doth  her  squadrons  like  the  hedghogs  stand 

Fixt;    but  shee  darts  them  forth,  and  at  command 

Farre  off  her  members  aimes;    shot  through  the  skie 

From  her  shak'd  side  the  Native  Engines  flie. 

Sometimes  retiring,  Parthian  like,  shee'l  wound          25 

Her  following  foe;    sometimes  intrenching  round, 

In  battaile  forme,  marshalling  all  her  flanks, 

Shee'l  clash  her  javelins  to  affright  the  ranks 

Of  her  poore  enemies,  lineing  every  side 

With  speares,  to  which  shee  is  her  selfe  allied.          30 

Each  part  of  her's  a  souldier,  from  her  back 

But  stir'd,  a  horse  and  horrid  noise  doth  crack; 

That  one  would  think  the  trumpets  did  incite 

Two  adverse  Armies  to  begin  to  fight; 

So  great  a  noise,  from  one  so  small  did  rise.  35 

Then  to  her  skill  in  Armes  she  is  so  wise 

As  to  adde  Policy,  and  a  thrifty  feare 

Of  her  owne  safety;    shee  a  wrath  doth  beare 

Not  prodigall  of  weapons,  but  content 

With  wary  threatning;    and  hath  seldome  sent          40 

An  arrow  forth,  caus'd  by  an  idle  strife, 

But  spends  'em  only  to  secure  her  life! 

(14)  speeded  '38   her  speckled  '64  stiff  as  pikes  her  speckled  '68. 

(15)  Grow]  Go  '68.  (23)  of  '38. 

(18)  solid]  sordid  '68.  (26)  in  trenching  '38. 

(21)  squadron  like  a  Hedge-hog  '68.  (29)  ,]  :    '38. 

(32)  stir'd,  a  horrid  noyse  '68         a  horse  a  horrid  '52.  (42)  "m  '68. 


90  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  then  her  diligent  stroke  so  certaine  is 
Without  all  error,  shee  will  seldome  misse. 
No  distance  cozens  her;    the  dumbe  skin  aimes  right, 
And  rules  the  levy  of  the  skillfull  fight.  46 

What  humane  labour,  though  we  boast  it  such, 
With  all  her  reason  can  performe  so  much? 
They  from  the  Cretan  Goats  their  homes  must  take, 
And  after,  those  with  fire  must  softer  make.  50 

Buls  guts  must  bend  their  bowes;    and  e're  they  fight 
Steele  armes  their  darts:  and  fethers  wing  their  flights. 

When  loe  a  little  beast  wee  armed  see 

With  nothing  but  her  owne  Artillery: 

Who  seeks  no  forraine  aide;   with  her  all  goe,       55 

Shee  to  her  selfe  is  Quiver,  darts,  and  bow. 
One  Creature  all  the  Arts  of  warfare  knows; 
If  from  examples  then  the  Practice  flows 
Of  humane  life,  hence  did  th'  Invention  grow 
At  distance  to  incounter  with  our  foe.  60 

Hence  the  Cydonians  instructed  are 
Their  Stratagems,  and  manner  of  their  warre. 
Hence  did  the  Parthians  learne  to  fight,  and  fly; 
Taught  by  this  bird  their  skilfull  Archery. 

(48)  WithaU  '38.  (50)  those]  om.  '68.  (59)  ,]  ;  '38. 


In  Arcbimedis  Sphtzram  ex  Claudiano. 

IOve  saw  the  Heavens  fram'd  in  a  little  glasse, 
And  laughing,  to  the  Gods  these  words  did  passe; 
Comes  then  the  power  of  mortall  cares  so  farre? 
In  brittle  Orbes  my  labours  acted  are. 
The  statutes  of  the  Poles,  the  faith  of  things,  5 

The  Laws  of  Gods  this  Syracusian  brings 


POEMS  91 

Hither  by  art:    Spirits  inclos'd  attend 
Their  severall  spheares,  and  with  set  motions  bend 
The  living  worke:    Each  yeare  the  faigned  Sun, 
Each  Month  returnes  the  counterfeited  Moon;          10 
And  viewing  now  her  world,  bold  Industrie 
Grows  proud,  to  know  the  heavens  her  subjects  bee. 
Beleive  Salmonius  hath  false  thunders  thrown, 
For  a  poore  hand  is  Natures  rivall  grown. 


De  Magnete.     Ex  Claudiano. 

WHo  in  the  world  with  busy  reason  pryes, 
Searching  the  seed  of  things,  &  there  descryes 
With  what  defect  labours  th'  Ecclipsed  moon, 
What  cause  commands  a  palenesse  in  the  Sun, 
Whence  ruddy  comets  with  their  fatall  haire,  5 

Whence  winds  doe  flow,  and  what  the  Motions  are 
That  shake  the  bowels  of  the  trembling  earth; 
What  strikes  the  lightning  forth;   whence  clouds  give 

birth 

To  horrid  thunders;    and  doth  also  know 
What  light  lends  lustre  to  the  painted  Bow:  10 

If  ought  of  truth  his  soule  doth  understand, 
Let  him  resolve  a  question  Fie  demand: 

There  is  a  stone  which  we  the  loadstone  stile, 
Of  colour  ugly,  darke,  obscure,  and  vile: 
It  never  deck'd  the  sleiked  locks  of  Kings,  15 

No  Ornament,  no  gorgeous  Tire  it  brings 
To  Virgins  beauteous  necks,  it  never  showne 
A  splendent  buckle  in  ther  maiden  Zone: 

(8)  give]  have  '68.  (16)  ornament*  '68. 


92  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

But  only  heare  the  wonders  I  will  tell 
Of  the  black  peeble,  and  'twill  then  excell  20 

All  bracelets,  and  what  e're  the  diving  Moore 
'Mongst  the  red  weeds  seeks  for  'ith  Easterne  shore: 
From  Iron  first  it  lives,  Iron  it  eats, 
But  that  sweet  feast  it  knows  no  other  meats; 
Thence  shee  renews  her  strength,  vigor  is  sent          25 
Through  all  her  nerves  by  that  hard  nourishment; 
Without  that  food  shee  dies,  a  famine  numm's 
Her  meager  joynts,  a  thirst  her  veins  consumes. 
Mars  that  frights  Cities  with  his  bloody  speares, 
And  Venus  that  releases  humane  feares,  30 

Doe  both  together  in  one  Temple  shine, 
Both  joyntly  honour'd  in  a  common  shrine; 
But  different  Statues,  Mars  a  steele  put  on, 
And  Venus  figure  was  Magnetique  stone. 
To  them  (as  is  the  custome  every  yeare)  35 

The  Preist  doth  celebrate  a  Nuptiall  there. 
The  torch  the  Quire  doth  lead,  the  threshold's  green 
With  hallowed  Mirtles,  and  the  beds  are  seen 
To  smell  with  rosy  flowers,  the  Geniall  sheet 
Spread  over  with  a  purple  Coverlet.  40 

But  heare  (6  strange)  the  statues  seem'd  to  move, 
And  Cytherea  runs  to  catch  her  Love; 
And  like  their  former  joyes  in  heaven  possest, 
With  wanton  heat  clings  to  her  Mars'es  brest; 
There  hangs  a  gratefull  burden;   then  shee  throwes  45 
Her  armes  about  his  helmet,  to  Inclose 
Her  love  in  amorous  Gives,  least  he  get  out, 
Here  live  embraces  chaine  him  round  about. 
He  stir'd  with  love  breath'd  gently  through  his  veins, 
Is  drawne  by  unseene  links  and  secret  chaines          50 

(36)  This  line  om.  in  '68.  (41)  here  "43,  ff.  (48)  Here]  Her  '51. 


POEMS  93 

To  meet  his  spoused  Gemme;    the  ay  re  doth  wed 

The  steele  unto  the  stone;   thus  strangely  led 

The  Deities  their  stolne  delights  replay'd, 

And  only  Nature  was  the  bridall  mayd. 

What  heat  in  these  two  Metals  did  inspire  55 

Such  mutuall  league?  what  concords  powrefull  fire 

Contracted  their  hard  minds?  the  stone  doth  move 

With  amorous  heat,  the  steele  doth  learne  to  love. 

So  Venus  oft  the  God  of  warre  withstood, 

And  gives  him  milder  looks;    when  hot  with  blood  60 

He  rages  to  the  fight,  fierce  with  desire, 

And  with  drawn  points  whets  up  his  active  Ire; 

She  dares  goe  forth  alone,  and  boldly  meet 

His  foaming  steeds,  and  with  a  winning  greet 

The  tumour  of  his  high  swolne  breast  asswage,         65 

Temp' ring  with  gentle  flames  his  violent  rage. 

Peace  courts  his  soule,  the  fight  he  disavows, 

And  his  red  plumes  he  now  to  kisses  bows. 

Ah  cruell  Boy  large  thy  dominions  bee, 
The  Gods  and  all  their  Thunders  yeild  to  thee:        70 
Great  love  to  leave  his  heaven  thou  can'st  constraine, 
And  midst  the  brinish  waves  to  Lowe  againe. 
Now  the  cold  Rocks  thou  strik'st,  the  sencelesse  stone 
Thy  weapon  feeles,  a  lustfull  heat  doth  runne 
Through  veins  of  flint,  the  steele  thy  Pow'er  can  tame; 
And  rigid  Marble  must  admit  thy  flame.  76 

(65)  humor  '68.  (72)  low  '43  Love  '$*. 

(66)  Tempring  '38.  (73)  striks't  '38. 

(68)  to  kisses  now  he  '64,  '68.  (75)  power  "40,  ff. 

(69)  Ah!  '68. 


94  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


DC  Sene  Veronensi.     Ex  Claudiano. 

HAppy  the  man  that  all  his  dayes  hath  spent 
Within  his  owne  grounds,  and  no  farther  went: 
Whom  the  same  house  that  did  him  erst  behold 
A  little  Infant,  sees  him  now  grown  old, 
That  with  his  staffe  walkes  where  he  crawl'd  before,     5 
Counts  th*  age  of  one  poore  cottage  and  no  more. 
Fortune  ne're  him  with  various  tumult  prest, 
Nor  dranke  he  unknown  streams,  a  wandring  guest. 
He  fear'd  no  Merchants  stormes,  nor  drummes  of  war, 
Nor  ever  knew  the  strifes  of  the  hoarse  Bar.  10 

Who  though  to  th*  next  Towne  he  a  stranger  bee, 
Yet  heav'ns  sweet  prospect  he  injoyes  more  free. 
From  fruits,  not  Consuls,  computation  brings, 
By  Apples  Autumnes  knows,  by  flowers  the  springs. 
Thus  he  the  day  by  his  owne  orbe  doth  prize;          15 
In  the  same  feild  his  Sunne  doth  set  and  rise. 
That  knew  an  oake  a  twigge,  and  walking  thither 
Beholds  a  wood  and  he  grown  up  together. 
Neighbouring  Feron  he  may  for  India  take, 
And  thinke  the  red  sea  is  Benacus  lake.  20 

Yet  is  his  strength  untam'd,  and  firme  his  knees, 
Him  the  third  age  a  lusty  Grandsire  sees. 
Goe  seeke  who  s'  will  the  farre  Iberian  shore, 
This  man  hath  liv'd,  though  that  hath  travel'd  more. 

(6)  the  age  '68.  (22)  Him  in  the  third  age  '64. 

(19)  Neighbouring  '43,  ff.  (23)  who's  will  '52. 


POEMS  95 


The  second  Epod:  of  Horace  translated. 

HAppy  the  man  which  farre  from  city  care; 
(Such  as  ancient  Mortals  were) 
With  his  own  oxen  plows  his  fathers  land, 

Free  from  Vsurers  griping  hand. 
The  souldiers  trumpets  never  breake  his  sleepe,          5 

Nor  angry  seas  that  raging  keepe. 
He  shunnes  the  wrangling  Hall,  nor  foot  doth  set 

On  the  proud  thresholds  of  the  Great: 
His  life  is  this  (O  life  almost  divine) 

To  marry  Elmes  unto  the  Vine;  10 

To  prune  unfruitfull  branches,  and  for  them 

To  graft  a  bough  of  happier  stemme. 
Or  else  within  the  low  couch'd  vallies  views 

His  well  cloth'd  flocks  of  bleating  ewes. 
Sometimes  his  hony  he  in  pots  doth  keepe,  15 

Sometimes  he  sheares  his  fleecy  sheepe. 
And  when  his  fruits  with  Autumne  ripened  bee 

Gathers  his  Apples  from  the  Tree. 
And  joyes  to  tast  the  peares  himselfe  did  plant, 

And  Grapes  that  naught  of  purple  want.  20 

Vnder  an  Oake  sometimes  he  layes  his  head, 

Making  the  tender  grasse  his  bed. 
Meane  while  the  streams  along  their  banks  doe  float 

And  birds  doe  chaunt  with  warbling  throat; 
And  gentle  springs  a  gentle  murmure  keepe,  25 

To  lull  him  to  a  quiet  sleepe. 
When  winter  comes,  and  th'  ayre  doth  chillier  grow, 

Threatning  showers  and  shivering  snow; 

(7)  food  '64.  (9)  )]  !)  '43,  «.  (14)  floc'ki  '38 


96  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Either  with  hounds  he  hunts  the  tusked  swine 

That  foe  unto  the  corne  and  vine;  30 

Or  layes  his  nets;   or  limes  the  unctuous  bush 

To  catch  the  blackbird,  or  the  thrush. 
Sometimes  the  Hare  he  courses,  and  one  way 

Makes  both  a  pleasure  and  a  prey. 
But  if  with  him  a  modest  wife  doth  meet,  35 

To  guide  his  house  and  children  sweet; 
Such  as  the  Sabine  or  Apulean  wife, 

Something  brown  but  chast  of  life; 
Such  as  will  make  a  good  warme  fire  to  burne, 

Against  her  wearied  Mate's  returne;  40 

And  shutting  in  her  stalls  her  fruitfull  Neat, 

Will  milke  the  kines  distended  Teat: 
Fetching  her  husband  of  her  selfe-brew'd  beere, 

And  other  wholesome  Country  cheere. 
Suppe  him  with  bread  and  cheese,  Pudding  or  Pye,  45 

Such  dainties  as  they  doe  not  buy: 
Give  me  but  these,  and  I  shall  never  care 

Where  all  the  Lucrine  oisters  are; 
These  wholsome  Country  dainties  shall  to  mee 

Sweet  as  Tench  or  Sturgeon  bee.  50 

Had  I  but  these  I  well  could  be  without 

The  Carp,  the  Sammon,  or  the  Trout  : 
Nor  should  the  Phoenix  selfe  so  much  delight 

My  not  ambitious  appetite, 
As  should  an  Apple  snatch'd  from  mine  own  trees,  55 

Or  hony  of  my  labouring  Bees. 
My  Cattels  udders  should  afford  me  food, 

My  sheep  my  cloth,  my  ground  my  wood. 
Sometimes  a  lambe,  snatch'd  from  the  wolfe  shall  bee 

A  banquet  for  my  freind  and  mee.  60 

(38)  Sometimes  '68.  (45)  Pye,]  bye,  '43,  '52. 

(42)  Teat  s  "52.  (46)  buy:]   any:  '43. 'S*- 


POEMS  97 

Sometimes  a  Calfe  ta'ne  from  her  lowing  Cow, 

Or  tender  Issue  of  the  So*w. 
Our  Gardens  sallets  yeild,  Mallowes  to  keepe 

Loose  bodies,  Lettice  for  to  sleepe. 
The  cakling  Hen  an  egge  for  breakfast  layes,  65 

And  Duck  that  in  our  water  playes. 
The  Goose  for  us  her  tender  plumes  hath  bred 

To  lay  us  in  a  softer  bed. 
Our  blankets  are  not  dy'd  with  Orphans  teares, 

Our  Pillows  are  not  stuff' d  with  cares.  70 

To  walke  on  our  owne  grounds  a  stomack  gets, 

The  best  of  sawce  to  tart  our  meats. 
In  midst  of  such  a  feast,  'tis  joy  to  come 

And  see  the  well  fed  Lambs  at  home. 
JTis  pleasure  to  behold  th'  inversed  Plow  75 

The  Lanquid  necks  of  Oxen  bow. 
And  view  th'  industrious  servants  that  will  sweat 

Both  at  labour  and  at  meat. 
Lord  grant  me  but  enough;  I  aske  no  more 

Then  will  serve  mine,  and  helpe  the  poore.  80 

(72)  tart]  cure  '52.  our]  out  "38. 


An  Elegie  upon  the  Lady  Venetia  Digby. 

DEatb,  who'ld  not  change  prerogatives  with  thee, 
That  dost  such  rapes,  yet  mayst  not  ques- 
tion'd  bee? 

Here  cease  thy  wanton  lust,  be  satisfi'd, 
Hope  not  a  second,  and  so  faire  a  bride. 
Where  was  her  Mars,  whose  valiant  armes  did  hold  5 
This  Venus  once,  that  thou  durst  be  so  bold 

Venetian  Digby.        '52.  (2)  ?]  om.  '38. 


98  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

By  thy  too  nimble  theft?     I  know  'twas  feare, 

Lest  he  should  come,  that  would  have  rescu'd  her. 

Monster  confesse,  didst  thou  not  blushing  stand, 

And  thy  pale  cheeke  turne  red  to  touch  her  hand?  10 

Did  shee  not  lightning-like  strike  suddaine  heat 

Through  thy  cold  limbs,  and  thaw  thy  frost  to  sweate? 

Well  since  thou  hast  her,  use  her  gently,  Death, 

And  in  requitall  of  such  pretious  breath 

Watch  sentinell  to  guard  her,  doe  not  see  15 

The  wormes  thy  rivals,  for  the  Gods  will  bee. 

Remember  Paris,  for  whose  pettier  sin, 

The  Troian  gates  let  the  stout  Grecians  in; 

So  when  time  ceases,  (whose  unthrifty  hand 

Has  now  almost  consum'd  his  stock  of  sand)  20 

Myriads  of  Angels  shall  in  Armies  come, 

And  fetch  (proud  ravisher)  their  Helen  home. 

And  to  revenge  this  rape,  thy  other  store 

Thou  shalt  resigne  too,  and  shalt  steale  no  more. 

Till  then  faire  Ladies  (for  you  now  are  faire,  25 

But  till  her  death  I  fear'd  your  just  dispaire,) 

Fetch  all  the  spices  that  Arabia  yeelds, 

Distill  the  choycest  flowers  of  the  fields: 

And  when  in  one  their  best  perfections  meet 

Embalme  her  course,  that  shee  may  make  them  sweet. 

Whilst  for  an  Epitaph  upon  her  stone  31 

I  cannot  write,  but  I  must  weepe  her  one. 

Epitaph. 

Beauty  it  selfe  lyes  here,  in  whom  alone, 
Each  part  injoy'd  the  same  perfection. 
In  some  the  Eyes  we  praise;    in  some  the  Haire;      35 
In  her  the  Lips;    in  her  the  Cheeks  are  faire; 

do)  turnd  68.'  (zo)  Ha't  '38. 

(18)  Grecian  '  52.  (22)  their]  there  '38.  (32)  This  line  om.  in  '68 


POEMS  99 

That  Nymphs  fine  Feet,  her  Hands  we  beauteous  call, 

But  in  this  forme  we  praise  no  part,  but  all. 

The  ages  past  have  many  beauties  showne, 

And  I  more  plenty  in  our  time  have  knowne;  40 

But  in  the  age  to  come  I  looke  for  none, 

Nature  despaires,  because  her  patterns  gone. 


An  Epitaph  upon  M"  I.  T. 

REader  if  thou  hast  a  teare, 
Thou  canst  not  choose  but  pay  it  here. 
Here  lyes  modesty,  meeknesse,  zeale, 
Goodnfsse,  Piety,  and  to  tell 

Her  worth  at  once,  one  that  had  showne  5 

All  vertues  that  her  sex  could  owne. 
Nor  dare  my  praise  too  lavish  bee, 
Least  her  dust  blush  for  soe  would  shee. 
Hast  thou  beheld  in  the  spring's  bowers 
Tender  buds  breake  to  bring  forth  flowers:  10 

So  to  keepe  vertues  stock,  pale  death 
Tooke  her  to  give  her  infant  breath. 
Thus  her  accounts  were  all  made  even, 
Shee  rob'd  not  earth  to  adde  to  heaven. 

Mittris  /.  T.  '43,  '64        Mrs.  J.  T.  '52  MirtriM  J.  T.  "68. 

(13)  were  all]  are  well  '68. 


100  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


M 


An  Epitbalamium. 

Vse  be  a  bride-maid,  dost  not  heare 
How  honoured  Hunt  and  his  faire  Deere, 
This  day  prepare  their  wedding  cheere? 


The  swiftest  of  thy  pinions  take, 

And  hence  a  suddaine  journey  make,  5 

To  help  'em  breake  their  bridall  Cake. 

Hast  'em  to  Church,  tell  'em  love  sayes 
Religion  breeds  but  fond  delayes, 
To  lengthen  out  the  tedious  dayes. 

Chide  the  slow  Preist,  that  so  goes  on,  10 

As  if  he  feard  he  should  have  done 
His  sermon,  e're  the  glasse  be  runne. 

Bid  him  post  o'er  his  words,  as  fast 

As  if  himselfe  were  now  to  tast 

The  pleasure  of  so  faire  a  wast.  15 

Now  lead  the  blessed  Couple  home, 
And  serve  a  dinner  up  for  some; 
Their  banquet  is  as  yet  to  come. 

Maids  dance  as  nimbly  as  your  blood, 

Which  I  see  swell  a  purple  flood  20 

In  Emulation  of  that  good 

The  bride  possesseth;    for  I  deeme 
What  shee  enjoyes  will  be  the  theme 
This  night  of  every  virgins  dreame. 

No  separation  between  11.  18  and  19  in  '38. 


POEMS  101 

But  envy  not  their  blest  content,  25 

The  hasty  night  is  almost  spent, 
And  they  of  Cupid  will  be  shent. 

The  Sunne  is  now  ready  to  ride, 
Sure  'twas  the  morning  I  espide, 
Or  'twas  the  blushing  of  the  bride.  30 

See  how  the  lusty  bridegrooms  veins 

Swell,  till  the  active  torrent  strains 

To  breake  those  o're  stretcht  azure  chaines. 

And  the  faire  bride  ready  to  cry 

To  see  her  pleasant  losse  so  nigh,  35 

Pants  like  the  sealed  Pigeons  eye. 

Put  out  the  torch,  Love  loves  no  lights, 
Those  that  performe  his  misticke  rites 
Must  pay  their  Orisons  by  nights. 

Nor  can  that  sacrifice  be  done  40 

By  any  Priest,  or  Nun  alone, 

But  when  they  both  are  met  in  one. 

Now  you  that  tast  of  Hymens  cheere, 
See  that  your  lips  doe  meet  so  neare, 
That  Cockels  might  be  tutor'd  there;  45 

And  let  the  whisprings  of  your  love 
Such  short  and  gentle  murmurs  prove, 
As  they  were  Lectures  to  the  dove. 

(38)  his]  their  '52.  (45)  nuy  68. 


102  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  in  such  strict  embraces  twine 

As  if  you   read  unto  the  Vine,  50 

The  Ivy,  and  the  Columbine. 

Then  let  your  mutuall  bosomes  beat, 

Till  they  create  by  virtuall  heat 

Mirre,  Balme,  and  spikenard  in  a  sweat. 

Thence  may  there  spring  many  a  paire  55 

Of  Sonnes  and  Daughters  strong  and  faire: 
How  soone  the  Gods  have  heard  my  praier! 

Me  thinks  already  I  espy 

The  cradles  rock,  the  babies  cry, 

And  drousy  Nurses  Lullaby.  60 

(57)  This  line  indented  in  '38. 


An  Epitaph  upon  his  honoured  freind  Mr  Warre. 

HEre  lyes  the  knowing  head,  the  honest  heart, 
Faire  blood,  and  curteous  hands,  and  every  part 
Of  gentle  Warre,  all  with  one  stone  content, 
Though  each  deserv'd  a  severall  monument. 
He  was  (believe  me  Reader)  for  'tis  rare  5 

Virtuous  though  young,  and  learned  though  an  heire. 
Not  with  his  Blood,  or  Natures  gifts  content 
He  paid  them  both  the  tribute  which  they  lent. 
His  ancestors  in  him  fixed  their  pride, 
So  with  him  all  reviv'd,  with  him  all  dyed.  10 

(2)  hand  "64.  (7)  vertue*  gift  '68. 


POEMS  103 

This  made  death  lingring  come,  asham'd  to  bee 
At  once  the  ruine  of  a  familie. 

Learne  Reader  here,  though  long  thy  line  hath  stood, 
Time  breeds  consumptions  in  the  noblest  blood. 
Learne   (Reader)  here  to  what  our  Glories  come,       15 
Here's  no  distinction  'twixt  the  House  and  Toombe. 

(13)  lone  '68. 


Vpon  the  losse  of  his  little  finger. 

ARithmetique  nine  digits,  and  no  more 
Admits  of,  then  I  still  have  all  my  store. 
For  what  mischance  hath  tane  from  my  left 
hand, 

It  seemes  did  only  for  a  Cipher  stand. 
But  this  I'le  say  for  thee  departed  joynt,  5 

Thou  wert  not  given  to  steale,  nor  pick,  not  point 
At  any  in  disgrace;    but  thou  didst  go 
Vntimely  to  thy  Death  only  to  show 
The  other  members  what  they  once  must  doe; 
Hand,  arme,  legge,  thigh,  and  all  must  follow  too.     10 
Oft  didst  thou  scan  my  verse,  where  if  I  misse 
Henceforth  I  will  impute  the  cause  to  this. 
A  fingers  losse  (I  speake  it  not  in  sport) 
Will  make  a  verse  a  Foot  too  short. 
Farewell  deare  finger,  much  I  greive  to  see  15 

How  soone  mischance  hath  made  a  Hand  of  thee. 

(6)  nor  pick,]  not  pick,  '43,  '64         to  pick,  '52  or  pick,  '68. 
(14)  verse  sometimes  a  foot  too  short.     "64,  '68. 


104  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

On  the  Passion  of  Christ. 

WHat  rends  the  temples  vail,  wher  is  day  gone? 
How  can  agenerall  darknesse  cloud  the  Sun? 
Astrologers  their  skill  in  vaine  doe  try; 
Nature  must  needs  be  sick,  when  God  can  dye. 

(4)  can]  must  '68. 


Necessary  Observations. 

i  Precept. 

First  worship  God,  he  that  forgets  to  pray 
Bids  not  himselfe  good  morrow  nor  good  day. 
Let  thy  first  labour  be  to  purge  thy  sin; 
And  serve  him  first,  whence  all  things  did  begin. 

2  Pre. 

Honour  thy  Parents  to  prolong  thine  end,  5 

With  them  though  for  a  truth  doe  not  contend. 
Though  all  should  truth  defend,  doe  thou  loose  rather 
The  truth  a  while,  then  loose  their  Loves  for  ever. 
Who  ever  makes  his  fathers  heart  to  bleed, 
Shall  have  a  child  that  will  revenge  the  deed.  10 

3  Pre. 

Thinke  that  is  just;    'tis  not  enough  to  doe, 
Vnless  thy  very  thoughts  are  upright  too. 

4  Pre. 

Defend  the  truth,  for  that  who  will  not  dye, 
A  coward  is,  and  gives  himselfe  the  lye. 

5  Pre. 

Honour  the  King,  as  sonnes  their  Parents  doe,          15 
For  he's  thy  Father,  and  thy  Country's  too. 


POEMS  105 

6Pre. 

A  freind  is  gold;    if  true  heele  never  leave  thee, 
Yet  both  without  a  touchstone  may  deceive  thee. 

7  Pre. 
Suspicious  men  thinke  others  false,  but  hee 

Cozens  himselfe  that  will  too  credulous  bee.  20 

For  thy  freinds  sake,  let  no  suspect  be  shown; 
And  shun  to  be  too  credulous  for  thine  own. 

8  Pre. 

Take  well  what  e're  shall  chance,  though  bad  it  bee; 
Take  it  for  good,  and  'twill  be  so  to  thee. 

9  Pre. 

Swear  not:   An  oath  is  like  a  dangerous  dart  35 

Which  shot  rebounds  to  strike  the  shooters  heart. 

10  Pre. 

The  law's  the  path  of  life;    then  that  obey, 
Who  keeps  it  not  hath  wandring  lost  his  way. 

11  Pre. 

Thanke  those  that  doe  thee  good,  so  shalt  thou  gaine 
Their  second  helpe,  if  thou  shouldst  need  againe.     30 

12  Pre. 

To  doubtfull  matters  doe  not  headlong  run; 
What's  well  left  off,  were  better  not  begun. 

13  Pre. 

Be  well  advis'd,  and  wary  counsell  make, 

E're  thou  dost  any  action  undertake. 

Having  undertaken,  thy  endeauours  bend  35 

To  bring  thy  Action  to  a  perfect  end. 

14  Pre. 

Safe  in  thy  brest  close  lock  up  thy  Intents; 
For  he  that  knows  thy  purpose,  best  prevents. 

(21)  subject  '68.  (36)  actions  '68. 


106  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

15  Pre. 

To  tell  thy  miseries  will  no  comfort  breed, 
Men  helpe  thee  most  that  thinke  thou  hast  no  need. 
But  if  the  world  once  they  misfortunes  know,  41 

Thou  soone  shalt  loose  a  freind,  and  find  a  foe. 

16  Pre. 

Keepe  thy  freinds  goods;  for  should  thy  wants  be  known, 
Thou  canst  not  tell  but  they  may  be  thine  own. 

17  Pre. 

To  gather  wealth  through  fraud  doe  not  presume,    45 
A  little  evill  got  will  much  consume. 

1 8  Pre. 

First  thinke,  and  if  thy  thoughts  approve  thy  will 
Then  speake,  and  after  what  thou  speakst  fulfill. 

19  Pre. 

Spare  not,  nor  spend  too  much;    be  this  thy  care, 
Spare  but  to  spend,  and  only  spend  to  spare.  50 

Who  spends  too  much  may  want,  and  so  complaine. 
But  he  spends  best  that  spares  to  spend  againe. 

20  Pre. 

If  with  a  stranger  thou  discourse  first  learne 

By  strictest  observations  to  discerne, 

If  he  be  wiser  then  thy  selfe;    if  so  55 

Be  dumbe,  and  rather  choose  by  him  to  know. 

But  if  thy  selfe  perchance  the  wiser  bee, 

Then  doe  thou  speake  that  he  may  learne  by  thee. 

21  Pre. 

If  thou  dispraise  a  man  let  no  man  know, 

By  any  circumstance  that  he's  thy  foe:  60 

If  men  but  once  find  that,  they'l  quickly  see 

Thy  words  from  hate,  and  not  from  judgment  bee. 

(44)  thine]  thy  '68. 


POEMS  107 

If  thou  wouldst  tell  his  vice,  doe  what  you  can 
To  make  the  world  believe  thou  lov'st  the  man. 

22  Pre. 

Reprove  not  in  their  wrath  incensed  men,  65 

Good  councell  comes  cleane  out  of  season  then. 

But  when  his  fury  is  appeas'd  and  past, 

He  will  conceive  his  fault  and  mend  at  last. 

When  he  is  coole,  and  calme  then  utter  it; 

No  man  gives  Physick  in  the  midst  oth'  Fit.  70 

23  Pre. 

Seeme  not  too  conscious  of  thy  worth,  nor  be 

The  first  that  knows  thy  own  sufficiency. 

If  to  thy  King  and  Country  thy  true  care 

More  servicable  is  then  others  are, 

That  blaze  in  court,  and  every  Action  sway  75 

As  if  the  Kingdome  on  their  shoulders  lay. 

Or  if  thou  serv'st  a  master,  and  dost  see 

Others  prefer'd  of  lesse  Desert  then  thee, 

Doe  not  complaine  though  such  a  Plaint  be  true, 

Lords  will  not  give  their  Favours  as  a  Due.  80 

But  rather  stay  and  hope:    it  cannot  bee 

But  men  at  last  must  needs  thy  vertues  see. 

So  shall  thy  trust  endure,  and  greater  grow, 

Whilst  they  that  are  above  thee,  fall  below. 

24  Pre.     • 

Desire  not  thy  mean  fortunes  for  to  set  85 

Next  to  the  stately  Manners  of  the  Great. 
He  will  suspect  thy  labours,  and  oppresse, 
Fearing  thy  greatnesse  makes  his  wealth  the  lesse. 
Great  ones  doe  love  no  ^Equals:  But  must  bee 
Aboue  the  Termes  of  all  comparitie.  90 

(68)  mend]  men  '38.  (86)Manner»  '52. 

(85)  meane-fortunes  '38. 


108  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Such  a  rich  Neighbour  is  compared  best 

To  the  great  Pike  that  eats  up  all  the  rest. 

Or  else  like  Pharaohs  Cow,  that  in  an  houre 

Will  seaven  of  his  fattest  freinds  devoure. 

Or  like  the  sea  whose  vastnesse  swallows  cleane        95 

All  other  streams,  though  no  encrease  be  scene. 

Live  by  the  Poore,  they  doe  the  Poore  no  harme; 

So  Bees  thrive  best  when  they  together  swarme. 

Rich  men  are  Bears,  and  Poore  men  ought  to  feare  'em. 

Like  ravenous  wolfes;  'tis  dangerous  living  neare  'em.  100 

25  Pre. 

Each  man  three  Divils  hath,  selfe  borne  afflictions; 
Th'  unruly  Tongue,  the  Belly,  and  Affections. 
Charme  these,  such  holy  Conjurations  can 
Gaine  thee  the  friendship  both  of  God  and  man. 

26  Pre. 

So  Hue  with  man  as  if  Gods  curious  eye,  105 

Did  every  where  into  thine  Actions  prie. 

For  never  yet  was  sinne  so  void  of  sence, 

So  fully  fac'd  with  brazen  Impudence, 

As  that  it  durst  before  mens  eyes  commit 

Their  beastly  lusts,  least  they  should  witnesse  it.    no 

How  dare  they  then  offend,  when  God  shall  see, 

That  must  alone  both  ludge  and  lury  bee? 

•    27  Pre. 

Take  thou  no  care  how  to  deferre  thy  death, 
And  give  more  respit  to  this  Mortall  breath. 
Would'st  thou  live  long?  the  only  meanes  are  these  115 
'Bove  Galens  diet,  or  Hippocrates. 
Strive  to  live  well;   Tread  in  the  upright  wayes, 
And  rather  count  thy  Actions  then  thy  dayes, 

(100)  wolves  '43,  S.  (106)  thy  '68. 

(101)  hath '38         hath;  '43,  ff.         affliction,  '52.  (112)  ?] .  '38. 


POEMS  109 

Then  thou  hast  liv'd  enough  amongst  us  here, 

For  every  day  well  spent  I  count  a  yeare.  no 

Live  well,  and  then  how  soone  soe're  thou  die, 

Thou  art  of  Age  to  claim  ^Eternitie. 

But  he  that  out  lives  Nestor,  and  appeares 

T'have  the  date  of  gray  Matbusalems  yeares. 

If  his  life  to  sloth  and  sinne  doth  give,  125 

I  say  he  only  Was,  he  did  not  Live! 

28  Pre. 

Trust  not  a  man  unknown  he  may  deceive  thee; 
And  doubt  the  man  thou  knowst  for  he  may   leave 

thee. 

And  yet  for  to  prevent  exceptions  too, 
'Tis  best  not  seeme  to  doubt  although  you  doe.      130 

29  Pre. 

Heare  much  but  little  speake,  a  wise  man  feares, 
And  will  not  use  his  tongue  so  much  as  eares. 
The  Tongue  if  it  the  hedge  of  Teeth  doe  break 
Will  others  shame,  and  its  own  Ruine  speak. 
I  never  yet  did  ever  read  of  any  135 

Vndone  by  hearing,  but  by  speaking  many. 
The  reason's  this,  the  Eares  if  chast  and  holy, 
Doe  let  in  wit,  the  Tongue  doth  let  out  folly. 

30  Pre. 

To  all  alike  be  curteous,  meeke,  and  kind, 

A  winning  carriage  with  indifferent  mind,  140 

Be  not  familiar,  that  must  be  exempt, 

Groomes  saucy  love  soone  turnes  into  contempt. 

Be  sure  he  be  at  least  as  good  as  thee, 

To  whom  thy  freindship  shall  familiar  bee. 

(124)    Methus'lem'i  '68.  (137)  holly '5*. 

(129)  exception  '43,  ff.  (142)  love,  '38. 


110  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

31  Pre. 

ludge  not  between  two  freinds,  but  rather  see         145 

If  thou  canst  bring  them  freindly  to  agree. 

So  shalt  thou  both  their  Loves  to  thee  encrease, 

And  gaine  a  Blessing  too  for  making  Peace; 

But  if  thou  should'st  decide  the  cause  i'  th'  end, 

How  e're  thou  judge  thou  sure  shalt  loose  a  freind.    150 

32  Pre. 

Thy  credit  wary  keepe,  'tis  quickly  gone; 
Being  got  by  many  Actions,  lost  by  one. 

33  Pre. 

Vnto  thy  Brother  buy  not,  sell,  nor  lend, 

Such  Actions  have  their  own  peculiar  end; 

But  rather  choose  to  give  him,  if  thou  see  155 

That  thou  hast  pow'er,  and  hee  necessitie. 

34  Pre. 

Spare  in  thy  youth,  least  Age  should  find  thee  poore 
When  time  is  past,  and  thou  canst  spare  no  more. 
No  coupl'd  misery  is  so  great  in  either, 
As  Age  and  Want  when  both  doe  meet  together.    160 

35  Pre. 

Fly  Drunkennesse,  whose  vile  incontinence 

Takes  both  away  the  reason  and  the  sence. 

Till  with  Circcean  cups  thy  mind  possest 

Leaves  to  be  man,  and  wholy  turnes  a  Beast. 

Thinke  whilst  thou  swallowest  the  capacious  Bowle,i65 

Thou  let'st  in  Seas  to  wrack  and  drown  the  soule. 

That  hell  is  open,  to  remembrance  call, 

And  thinke  how  subject  drunkards  are  to  Fall. 

Consider  how  it  soone  destroyes  the  grace 

Of  humane  shape,  spoyling  the  beauteous  face.        170 

(152)  •]  » '38.  (163)  Ciraean  Kups  '43,  '52         mind's  '43,  '52,  '68. 

(156)  power  '40  ff. 


POEMS  1 1 1 

Puffing  the  cheekes,  blearing  the  curious  eye, 

Studding  the  face  with  vitious  Heraldry. 

What  Pearles  and  Rubies  doth  the  wine  disclose, 

Making  the  purse  poore  to  enrich  the  Nose? 

How  does  it  nurse  disease,  infect  the  heart.  175 

Drawing  some  sicknesse  into  every  part! 

The  stomack  overcloyd,  wanting  a  vent 

Doth  up  againe  resend  her  excrement. 

And  then  (6  see  what  too  much  wine  can  doe!) 

The  very  soule  being  drunke  spews  secrets  too.       180 

The  Lungs  corrupted  breath  contagious  ayre, 

Belching  up  fumes  that  unconcocted  are. 

The  Braine  o'rewarm'd  (loosing  her  sweet  repose) 

Doth  purge  her  filthy  ordure  through  the  nose. 

The  veins  doe  boyle  glutted  with  vitious  food,         185 

And  quickly  Fevers  the  distemper'd  blood. 

The  belly  swells,  the  foot  can  hardly  stand 

Lam'd  with  the  Gout;   the  Palsie  shakes  the  Hand. 

And  through  the  flesh  sick  waters  sinking  in, 

Doe  bladder-like  puffe  up  the  dropsi'd  skin.  190 

It  weaks  the  Braine,  it  spoiles  the  memory; 

Hasting  on  Age,  and  wilfull  Poverty. 

It  drownes  thy  better  parts;   making  thy  name 

To  foes  a  laughter,  to  thy  freinds  a  shame. 

'Tis  vertues  poyson,  and  the  bane  of  trust,  195 

The  match  of  wrath,  the  fuell  unto  lust. 

Quite  leave  this  vice,  and  turne  not  to't  againe, 

Vpon  Presumption  of  a  stronger  braine. 

For  he  that  holds  more  wine  then  others  can, 

I  rather  count  a  Hogshead  then  a  man.  200 

(199)  other  '38,  '64,  '68. 


112  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

36  Pre. 

Let  not  thy  Impotent  lust  so  pow'rfull  bee 

Over  thy  Reason,  Soule,  and  Liberty, 

As  to  enforce  thee  to  a  marryed  life, 

E're  thou  art  able  to  maintaine  a  wife. 

Thou  canst  not  feed  upon  her  lips  and  face  205 

Shee  cannot  cloth  thee  with  a  poore  imbrace. 

My  selfe  being  yet  alone,  and  but  one  still, 

With  patience  could  endure  the  worst  of  ill. 

When  fortune  frownes,  one  to  the  wars  may  goe 

To  fight  against  his  foes,  and  fortunes  too.  210 

But  (6)  the  greife  were  trebled  for  to  see 

Thy  wretched  Bride  halfe  pin'd  with  Povertie. 

To  see  thy  Infants  make  their  dumb  complaint 

And  thou  not  able  to  releive  their  want. 

The  poorest  begger  when  he's  dead  and  gone,          215 

Is  rich  as  he  that  sits  upon  the  Throne. 

But  he  that  having  no  estate  is  wed, 

Starves  in  his  grave,  being  wretched  when  he's  dead. 

37  Pre. 

If  e're  I  take  a  wife  I  will  have  one 

Neither  for  beauty  nor  for  portion,  220 

But  for  her  vertues;    and  I'le  married  bee 

Not  for  my  lust,  but  for  posteritie. 

And  when  I  am  wed,  I'le  never  iealous  bee, 

But  make  her  learne  how  to  be  chast  by  mee. 

And  be  her  face  what  'twill,  I'le  thinke  her  faire       225 

If  shee  within  the  house  confine  her  care. 

If  modest  in  her  words  and  cloths  shee  bee, 

Not  daub'd  with  pride  and  prodigalitie. 

If  with  her  neighbours  shee  maintaines  no  strife, 

And  beare  her  selfe  to  me  a  faithfull  wife,  230 

(201)  powerfull '40    powerfull  '43,  ff.  (211)  treble  '43,  ff. 


POEMS  113 

I'de  rather  unto  such  a  one  be  wed 
Then  claspe  the  choicest  Helen  in  my  bed. 
Yet  though  shee  were  an  Angell  my  affection 
Should  only  love,  not  dote  on  her  perfection. 


A  Platonick  Elegie. 

LOve,  give  me  leave  to  serve  thee,  and  be  wise 
To  keepe  thy  torch  in,  but  restore  blind  eyes. 
I  will  a  flame  into  my  bosome  take, 
That  Martyrs  Court  when  they  embrace  the  stake: 
Not  dull,  and  smoakie  fires,  but  heat  divine,  5 

That  burnes  not  to  consume,  but  to  refine. 
I  have  a  Mistresse  for  perfections  rare 
In  every  eye,  but  in  my  thoughts  most  faire. 
Like  Tapers  on  the  Altar  shine  her  eyes; 
Her  breath  is  the  perfume  of  Sacrifice.  10 

And  where  soe're  my  fancy  would  begin, 
Still  her  perfection  lets  religion  in. 
I  touch  her  like  my  Beads  with  devout  care; 
And  come  unto  my  Courtship  as  my  Praier. 
We  sit,  and  talke,  and  kisse  away  the  houres,  15 

As  chastly  as  the  morning  dews  kisse  flowers. 

Goe  wanton  Lover,  spare,  thy  sighs  and  teares, 
Put  on  the  Livery  which  thy  dotage  weares, 
And  call  it  Love,  where  heresie  gets  in 
Zeal's  but  a  coale  to  kindle  greater  sin.  20 

Wee  weare  no  flesh,  but  one  another  greet, 
As  blessed  soules  in  separation  meet. 

An  Elegit  '38.  (14)  Court-»hip*  '68. 

(3)  my]  thy  '68.  (17)  Line  not  indented  in  '38. 

(4)  «take]  ttate  '68.  (18)  the]  thy  '68. 
(7)  perfection  '68. 


114  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Wer't  possible  that  my  ambitious  sin, 

Durst  commit  rapes  upon  a  Cherubin, 

I  might  have  lustfull  thoughts  to  her,  of  all  25 

Earths  heav'nly  Quire  the  most  Angelicall. 

Looking  into  my  brest,  her  forme  I  find 

That  like  my  Guardian-Angell  keeps  my  mind 

From  rude  attempts;    and  when  affections  stirre, 

I  calme  all  passions  with  one  thought  of  her.  30 

Thus  they  whose  reasons  love,  and  not  their  sence, 

The  spirits  love:   thus  one  Intelligence 

Reflects  upon  his  like,  and  by  chast  loves 

In  the  same  spheare  this  and  that  Angell  moves. 

Nor  is  this  barren  Love;   one  noble  thought  35 

Begets  an  other,  and  that  still  is  brought 

To  bed  of  more;    vertues  and  grace  increase, 

And  such  a  numerous  issue  ne're  can  cease. 

Where  Children,  though  great  blessings,  only  bee 

Pleasures  repriv'd  to  some  posteritie.  40 

Beasts  love  like  men,  if  men  in  lust  delight 

And  call  that  love  which  is  but  appetite. 

When  essence  meets  with  essence,  and  soules  joyne 

In  mutuall  knots,  thats  the  true  Nuptall  twine: 

Such  Lady  is  my  Love,  and  such  is  true;  45 

All  other  Love  is  to  your  Sexe,  not  You. 

(29)  affliction!  '68. 


POEMS  115 

An  Apologie  for  his  false  Prediction  that  his 
Aunt  Lane  would  be  deliver' d  of  a  Sonnf. 

MO.VTIS  aoioros  5s  ris  eucofet  KdXcos. 
The  best  Prophets  are  but  good  Guessers. 

A  Re  then  the  Sibils  dead?  what  is  become 
Of  the  lowd  Oracles?  are  the  Augurs  dumbe? 
Live  not  the  Magi  that  so  oft  reveald 
Natures  intents?  is  Gipsisme  quite  repeald? 
Is  Friar  Bacon  nothing  but  a  name?  5 

Or  is  all  witchcraft  braind  with  Doctor  Lambf? 
Does  none  the  learned  Bungies  soule  inherit? 
Has  Madam  Davers  dispossest  her  spirit? 
Or  will  the  Welchmen  give  me  leave  to  say 
There  is  no  faith  in  Merlin?  none,  though  they        10 
Dare  sweare  each  letter  creed,  and  pawne  their  blood 
He  prophecied,  an  age  before  the  flood, 
Of  holy  Dee;   which  was,  as  some  have  said, 
Ten  generations  ere  the  Arke  was  made. 
All  your  predictions  but  Impostures  are,  15 

And  you  but  prophecy  of  things  that  were. 

And  you  Coelestiall  luglers  that  pretend 
You  are  acquainted  with  the  starres,  and  send 
Your  spyes  to  search  what's  done  in  every  spheare, 
Keeping  your  state-intelligencers  there  20 

Your  art  is  all  deceit;    for  now  I  see 
Against  the  Rules  of  deepe  Astrologie, 
Girles  may  be  got  when  Mars  his  power  doth  vaunt, 
And  boyes  when  Venus  is  Predominant. 

'euedfei  '38. 

(20)  state  intelligencers  '38.     (26),]  om.  "38. 


Il6  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Nor  doth  the  Moone  though  moist  and  cold  shee  bee 

Alwaies  at  full,  work  to  produce  the  shee:  26 

Had  this  been  true  I  had  foretold  no  lie, 

It  was  the  Art  was  in  the  wrong,  not  I. 

Thence  I  so  dully  err'd  in  my  beleife, 

As  to  mistake  an  Adam  for  an  Eve:  30 

0  grosse  mistake,  and  in  the  civill  pleas 
Error  Persona,  Mr  Doctor  sayes, 

And  may  admit  divorce;    but  farewell  now 

You  hungry  star-fed  Tribe,  hence  forth  I  vow 

Talmud,  Albumazar,  and  Ptolomie,  35 

With  Erra-Pater  shall  no  Gospell  bee. 

Nor  will  I  ever  after  this  I  sweare 

Throw  Dice  upon  the  shepheards  Calender. 

But  why  doe  I  t' excuse  my  Ignorance 

Lay  blame  upon  the  Art?  no,  no,  perchance  40 

1  have  lost  all  my  skill:    for  well  I  know 
My  Physiognomic  two  years  agoe 

By  the  small  Pox  was  mar'd,  and  it  may  bee 
A  fingers  losse  hath  spoild  my  Palmistry. 

But  why  should  I  a  grosse  mistake  confesse?         45 
No  I  am  confident  I  did  but  guesse 
The  very  truth:    it  was  a  male  child  then, 
But  Aunt  you  staid  till  'twas  a  wench  agen. 
To  see  th'  unconstancy  of  humane  things, 
How  little  time  great  Alteration  brings!  50 

All  things  are  subject  unto  change  we  know, 
And  if  all  things,  why  then  not  sexes  too? 
Tyresias  we  read  a  man  was  borne 
Yet  after  did  into  a  woman  turne. 

(31)  ,]  !  '68.  (34)  vow]  now  '38. 

(32)  Master  '40,  ff.  (51)  thing  '38. 

(33)  many  '64,  '68. 


POEMS  117 

Lfvinus  a  Physitian  of  great  fame,  55 

Reports  that  one  at  Paris  did  the  same. 

And  devout  Papists  say  certaine  it  is, 

One  of  their  Popes  by  Metamorphosis 

Indur'd  the  same;    else  how  could  loan  be  heire 

To  the  succession  of  S.  Peters  chaire.  60 

So  I  at  Chairing  cross e  have  beheld  one 
A  statue  cut  out  of  the  Parian  stone 
To  figure  great  Alcides;    which  when  well 
The  Artist  saw  it  was  not  like  to  sell, 
He  takes  his  chissill,  and  away  he  pares  65 

Part  of  his  sinewy  neck,  shaving  the  haires 
Of  his  rough  beard  and  face,  smoothing  the  brow, 
And  making  that  looke  amorous,  which  but  now 
Stood  wrinkled  with  his  anger;    from  his  head 
He  poles  the  shaggy  locks,  that  had  o're  spread       70 
His  brawny  shoulders  with  a  fleece  of  haire, 
And  workes  insteed  more  gentle  tresses  there. 
And  thus  his  skill  exactly  to  expresse, 
Soone  makes  a  Venus  of  an  Hercules. 
And  can  it  then  impossible  appeare,  75 

That  such  a  change  as  this  might  happen  here? 
For  this  cause  therefore  (Gentle  Aunt)  I  pray 
Blame  not  my  Prophecy,  but  your  delay. 

But  this  will  not  excuse  me;    that  I  may 
Directly  cleare  my  selfe,  there  is  no  way  80 

Vnlesse  the  Jesuits  will  to  me  impart 
The  secret  depth  of  their  mysterious  art; 
Who  from  their  halting  Patriot  learne  to  frame 
A  Crutch  for  every  word  that  fals  out  lame. 

(56)  that]  of '68.  '69)  ,]  ;  '38. 

(60)  Saint  '43,  '52        St.  '68.  (70)  pull»  '68        that]  and  '40,  '43,  '52. 

61)  Not  indented  in  '38.  (74)  an]  a  '64,  '68. 

(64)  ,]  ;  '38.  (82)  ;]  .     '38. 


Il8  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

That  can  the  subtle  difference  discry  85 

Betwixt  aequivocation  and  a  lie. 

And  a  rare  scape  by  sly  distinction  find 

To  sweare  the  Tongue,  and  yet  not  sweare  the  mind. 

Now  arm'd  with  Arguments  I  nothing  dread, 

But  my  own  cause  thus  confidently  plead.  90 

I  said  there  was  a  boy  within  your  wombe, 
Not  actually,  but  one  in  time  to  come. 
Or  by  Antipbrasis  my  words  might  bee 
That  ever  understands  the  contrary; 
Or  when  I  said  you  should  a  man-child  beare,          95 
You  understood  me  of  the  sexe  I  feare, 
When  I  did  meane  the  mind;    and  thus  define 
A  woman  but  of  spirit  masculine. 
Or  had  I  said  it  should  a  girle  have  been 
And  it  had  prov'd  a  boy,  you  should  have  seen      100 
Me  solve  it  thus;    I  meant  a  boy  by  fate, 
But  one  that  would  have  been  effeminate. 
Or  thus  I  had  my  just  excuse  begun, 
I  said  my  Aunt  would  surely  bring  a  sonne 
If  not  a  daughter;   what  we  seers  forsee  105 

Is  certaine  truth  unlesse  it  falshood  bee. 
Or  I  affirme  because  shee  brought  forth  one 
That  will  bring  boyes,  shee  hath  brought  forth  a  son. 
For  doe  not  we  call  Father  Adam  thus, 
Because  that  he  got  those  that  have  got  us?  no 

What  ere  I  said  by  simple  Affirmation, 
I  meant  the  right  by  mentall  reservation. 

(91)  with  in '38.  (no)  ?]  .  '38. 

(too)  you]  it '38.  (112)  mentall  reservation  '40,  ff. 


POEMS  119 

An  Epithalamium  to  MT  F.  H. 

FRanke,  when  this  Morne  the  harbinger  of  day 
Blush'd  from  her  Easterne  pillow  where  shee  lay 
Clasp'd  in  her  Tythons  arms  red  with  those  kisses, 
Which  being  injoy'd  by  night,  by  day  shee  misses. 
I  walk'd  the  feilds  to  see  the  teeming  earth,  5 

Whose  worn  be  now  swells  to  give  the  flowers  a  birth. 
Where  while  my  thoughts  with  every  object  tane, 
In  severall  contemplations  rapt  my  braine, 
A  suddaine  lustre  like  the  Sunne  did  rise, 
And  with  so  great  a  light  eclips'd  mine  eyes.  10 

At  last  I  spyed  a  Beauty  such  another, 
As  I  have  sometimes  heard  call  thee  her  Brother. 
But  by  the  chariot,  and  her  teame  of  Doves, 
I  guest  her  to  be  Venus,  Queene  of  Loves. 
With  her  a  pretty  boy  I  there  did  see,  15 

But  for  his  wings  F  had  thought  it  had  been  thee. 
At  last  when  I  beheld  his  quiver  of  darts, 
I  knew  t'was  Cupid,  Emp'ror  of  our  hearts. 
Thus  I  accosted  them,  Goddesse  divine, 
Great  Queene  of  Papbos  and  Cytberian  shrine:  20 

Whose  Altars  no  man  sees  that  can  depart 
Till  in  those  flames  he  sacrifice  his  heart; 
That  conquer'st  Gods,  and  men;    and  heaven  divine, 
Yea  and  hell  too:    Beare  witnesse  Proserpine. 
And  Cupid,  thou  that  canst  thy  Trophies  show         25 
Over  all  these,  and  o're  thy  Mother  too; 
Witnesse  the  night  which  when  with  Mars  shee  lay, 
Did  all  her  sports  to  all  the  Gods  betray: 

(8)  wrapt  '52.  (18)  Emperour  '38. 

(14)  guesse  '52.  (23)  conquerest  '38. 

(16)  I  had  '40,  '43,  '52         I'd  '64         I'de  '68. 


120  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Tell  me  great  Powers;  what  makes  such  glorious  beams 

Visit  the  lowly  banks  of  Ninus  streams?  30 

Then  Venus  smil'd,  and  smiling  bid  me  know 

Cupid  and  shee  must  both  to  Weston  goe. 

I  guest  the  cause;    for  Hymen  came  behind 

In  saffron  robes,  his  Nuptiall  knots  to  bind. 

Then  thus  I  pray'd:    Great  Venus  by  the  Love         35 

Of  thy  Adonis;   as  thou  hop'st  to  move 

Thy  Mars  to  second  kisses;    and  obtaine 

Beauties  reward,  the  Golden  fruit  againe: 

Bow  thy  faire  eares  to  my  chast  prayers,  and  take 

Such  Orisons  as  purest  Love  can  make.  40 

Thou,  and  thy  boy  I  know  are  posting  thither 

To  tye  pure  hearts  in  purest  bonds  together. 

Cupid  thou  know'st  the  maid:    I'  have  scene  thee  lye 

With  all  thy  arrowes  lurking  in  her  eye. 

Venus  thou  know'st  her  love,  for  I  have  scene          45 

The  time  thou  would'st  have  faine  her  Rivall  been. 

0  blesse  them  both !    Let  their  affections  meet 
With  happy  omens  in  the  Geniall  sheet. 

Both  comely,  beauteous  both,  both  equall  faire, 
Thou  canst  not  glory  in  a  fitter  paire.  50 

1  would  not  thus  have  praid  if  I  had  seen 
Fourscore  and  ten,  wed  to  a  young  fifteen. 
Death  in  such  Nuptials  seems  with  love  to  play, 
And  January  seems  to  match  with  May: 
Autumne  to  wed  the  Spring;    Frost  to  desire  55 
To  kisse  the  Sun;    Ice  to  embrace  the  fire. 

Both  these  are  young,  both  sprightfull,  both  compleat, 

Of  equall  moisture,  and  of  equall  heat: 

And  their  desires  are  one;   were  all  Loves  such 

Who  would  love  solitary  sheets  so  much?  60 

(43)  I  have  '40,  '43.  '52        I've  '64,  '68.  (59)  Loves]  love  "68. 


POEMS  121 

Virginity  (whereof  chast  fooles  doe  boast; 

A  thing  not  known  what  'tis,  till  it  be  lost) 

Let  others  praise;    for  me  I  cannot  tell 

What  vertue  'tis  to  lead  Baboons  in  hell. 

Woman  is  one  with  man  when  shee  is  brided;  65 

The  same  in  kind,  only  in  sexe  divided. 

Had  all  dy'd  maids,  we  had  been  nothing  then; 

Adam  had  been  the  first,  and  last  of  men. 

How  none  O  Venus  then  thy  power  had  seen? 

How  then  in  vaine  had  Cupids  arrows  been?  70 

My  selfe  whose  coole  thoughts  feele  no  hot  desires, 

That  serve  not  Venus  flames,  but  Vestas  fires; 

Had  I  not  vow'd  the  cloysters,  to  confine 

My  selfe  to  no  more  wives  then  only  nine 

Parnassus  brood;   those  that  heare  Phoebus  sing,       75 

Bathing  their  naked  limbs  in  Thespian  spring. 

I'de  rather  bee  an  Owle  of  Birds,  then  one 

That  is  the  Phcenix  if  shee  live  alone. 

Two  is  the  first  of  numbers;    one  naught  can  doe, 

One  then  is  good,  when  one  is  made  of  two.  80 

Which  mistery  is  thine  great  Venus ;  thine; 

Thy  union  can  two  soules  in  one  combine. 

Now  by  that  power  I  charge  thee  blesse  the  sheets 

With  happy  issue  where  this  couple  meets. 

The  maid's  a  Harvy,  one  that  may  compare  85 

With  fruit  Hesperian,  or  the  Dragons  care. 

Her  Love  a  Ward;   not  he  that  awed  the  seas, 

Frighting  the  fearefull  Hamadryades, 

That  Ocean  terrour,  he  that  durst  outbrave 

Dread  Neptunes  Trident,  Ampbitrites  wave.  90 

(62)  what,  'tis  '38.  (78)  live]  be  '68. 

(64)  vertue,  'tit  '38.  (79)  Two  is]  Two's  '40,  ff.        numbers,  '40  ff. 

(74)  to  more  '68.  (88)  ,]  .  '38. 

(76)  their]  her  '68. 


122  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

This  Ward  a  milder  Pirat  sure  will  prove, 

And  only  sailes  the  Hellespont  of  Love, 

As  once  Leander  did;    his  theft  is  best 

That  nothing  steales  but  whats  within  the  brest. 

Yet  let  that  other  Ward  his  thefts  compare,  95 

And  ransack  all  his  treasures,  let  him  beare 

The  wealth  of  worlds,  the  bowels  of  the  West 

And  all  the  richest  treasures  of  the  East. 

The  sands  of  Tagus,  all  Pactolus  ore, 

With  both  the  Indies;    yet  this  one  gets  more         100 

At  once  by  Love,  then  he  by  force  could  get, 

Or  ravish  from  the  Marchants;    let  him  set 

His  Ores  together;   let  him  vainely  boast 

Of  spices  snatch'd  from  the  Canary  coast. 

The  Gummes  of  JEgypt,  of  the  Tyrian  fleece  105 

Died  in  his  Native  purple,  with  what  Greece, 

Colchos,  Arabia,  or  proud  China  yeilds, 

With  all  the  Metals  in  Guiana  feilds. 

When  this  has  set  all  forth  to  boast  his  pride 

In  various  pompe  this  other  brings  his  Bride,          no 

And  I'le  be  judg'd  by  all  judicious  eyes, 

If  shee  alone  prove  not  the  richer  prize. 

O  let  not  death  have  power  their  Love  to  sever! 

Let  them  both  love,  and  live  and  die  together. 

O  let  their  beds  be  chast,  and  banish  thence  115 

As  well  all  lealousies,  as  all  offence! 

For  some  men  I  have  known,  whose  wives  have  been 

As  chast  as  Ice:    such  as  were  never  seen 

In  wanton  dalliance,  such  as  untill  death 

Never  smelt  any,  but  their  husbands  breath.  120 

Yet  the  Good-man  still  dream'd  of  homes,  still  fearing 

His  forhead  would  grow  harder;    still  appearing 

(101)  Love;  "38.  (no)  pompe,  '38.  (114)  live]  live, '40,  ff. 


POEMS  123 

To  his  own  fancy,  bull,  or  stagge,  or  more, 

Or  Oxe  at  least,  that  was  an  Asse  before. 

If  shee  would  have  new  cloaths,  he  streight  will  feare 

Shee  loves  a  Taylour;    if  shee  sad  appeare  126 

He  guesses  soone  it  is  'cause  he's  at  home; 

If  jocund,  sure  shee  has  some  freind  to  come. 

If  shee  be  sick,  he  thinkes  no  greife  shee  felt, 

But  wishes  all  Physitians  had  been  guelt.  130 

But  aske  her  how  shee  does,  sets  him  a  swearing, 

Feeling  her  pulse,  is  love  tricks  past  the  bearing. 

Poore  wretched  wife,  shee  cannot  looke  a  wry 

But  without  doubt  'tis  flat  adultery. 

And  jealous  wives  there  be,  that  are  afraid  135 

To  entertaine  a  handsome  Chamber-maid. 
Farre,  farre  from  them  be  all  such  thoughts  I  pray, 
Let  their  Loves  prove  eternall,  and  no  day 
Adde  date  to  their  affections,  grant  (6  Queene) 
Their  Loves  like  nuptiall  bayes  be  alwaies  greene.  140 

And  also  grant But  here  shee  bid  me  stay, 

For  well  shee  knew  what  I  had  else  to  say. 

I  ask'd  no  more,  wish'd  her  hold  on  her  race 

To  joyne  their  hands,  and  send  them  night  apace. 

Shee  smil'd  to  heare  what  I  in  sport  did  say,           145 

So  whip'd  her  doves  and  smiling  rid  away. 

(131)  set  '38.  (135)  Not  indented  in  '40,  ff. 

To  Mr  Feltham  on  his  booke  of  Resolves. 

IN  this  unconstant  Age  when  all  mens  minds 
In  various  change  strive  to  outvie  the  winds. 
When  no  man  sets  his  foot  upon  the  square, 
But  treads  on  globes  and  circles;   when  we  are 
The  Apes  of  Fortune,  and  desire  to  bee  5 


124  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Revolved  on  as  fickle  wheeles  as  shee. 

As  if  the  planets,  that  our  rulers  are, 

Made  the  soules  motion  too  irregular. 

When  minds  change  oftner  then  the  Greek  could  dream, 

That  made  the  Metempseucos'd  soule  his  theame;    10 

Yea  oft  to  beastly  formes:   when  truth  to  say 

Moons  change  but  once  a  month,  we  twice  a  day. 

When  none  resolves  but  to  be  rich,  and  ill; 

Or  else  resolves  to  be  irresolute  still. 

In  such  a  tide  of  minds,  that  every  houre  15 

Doe  ebbe  and  flow;    by  what  inspiring  power, 

By  what  instinct  of  grace  I  cannot  tell, 

Dost  thou  resolve  so  much,  and  yet  so  well? 

While  foolish  men  whose  reason  is  their  sence, 

Still  wander  in  the  worlds  circumference:  20 

Thou  holding  passions  raines  with  strictest  hand 

Dost  firme  and  fixed  in  the  Center  stand. 

Thence  thou  art  setled,  others  while  they  tend 

To  rove  about  the  circle  find  no  end. 

Thy  booke  I  read,  and  read  it  with  delight,  25 

Resolving  so  to  live  as  thou  dost  wright. 

And  yet  I  guesse  thy  life  thy  booke  produces, 

And  but  expresses  thy  peculiar  uses. 

Thy  manners  dictate,  thence  thy  writing  came, 

So  Lesbians  by  their  worke  their  rules  doe  frame,    30 

Not  by  the  rules  the  worke;    thy  life  had  been 

Patterne  enough,  had  it  of  all  been  seen, 

Without  a  book;    books  make  the  difference  here, 

In  them  thou  liv'st  the  same  but  every  where. 

(6)  Resolved  '40,  ff.  (26)  write  '40,  ff. 

(16)  flow,  '43,  ff.  (30)  works  '40,  *43t  '$*• 

(20)  wandring  '43.  ff-  (3*)  °Q  at  '52. 

(21)  Thou]  Though  '52.  (33)  ;]  ?  '52. 
(23)  other-while  '43,  '52,  '64. 


POEMS  125 

And  this  I  guesse,  though  th'art  unknown  to  me,     35 
By  thy  chast  writing;    else  it  could  not  bee 
(Dissemble  ne're  so  well)  but  here  and  there 
Some  tokens  of  that  plague  would  soone  appeare; 
Oft  lurking  in  the  skin  a  secret  gout 
In  books  would  sometimes  blister,  and  breake  out.  40 
Contagious  sinnes  in  which  men  take  delight 
Must  needs  infect  the  paper  when  they  write. 

But  let  the  curious  eyes  of  Lynceus  look 
Through  every  nerve,  and  sinew  of  this  book, 
Of  which  'tis  full:    let  the  most  diligent  mind  45 

Prie  thorough  it,  each  sentence  he  shall  find 
Season'd  with  chast,  not  with  an  itching  salt, 
More  savouring  of  the  Lampe,  then  of  the  malt. 
But  now  too  many  thinke  no  wit  divine, 
None  worthy  life,  but  whose  luxurious  line  50 

Can  ravish  Virgins  thoughts.     And  is  it  fit 
To  make  a  pandar,  or  a  baud  of  wit? 
But  tell  'em  of  it,  in  contempt  they  look, 
And  aske  in  scorne  if  you  would  geld  their  book. 
As  if  th'  effeminate  braine  could  nothing  doe  55 

That  should  be  chast,  and  yet  be  masculine  too. 
Such  books  as  these  (as  they  themselves  indeed 
Truly  confesse)  men  doe  not  praise  but  read. 
Such  idle  books,  which  if  perchance  they  can 
Better  the  braine,  yet  they  corrupt  the  man.  60 

Thou  hast  not  one  bad  line  so  lustfull  bred 
As  to  dye  maid,  or  Matrons  cheeke  in  red. 
Thy  modest  wit,  and  witty  honest  letter 
Make  both  at  once  my  wit,  and  me  the  better. 

(54)  their]  the  '40,  ff.  (56)  masc'line  '64,  "68. 

(55)  th1]  the  '68.  (64)  Makej  '38. 


126  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Thy  book  a  Garden  is,  and  helps  us  most  65 

To  regaine  that  which  wee  in  Adam  lost. 

Where  on  the  Tree  of  knowledge  wee  may  feed, 

But  such  as  no  forbidden  fruits  doth  breed. 

Whose  leaves  like  those  whence  Eve  her  coat  did  frame, 

Serve  not  to  cover,  but  to  cure  our  shame.  70 

Fraught  with  all  flowers,  not  only  such  as  grows 

To  please  the  eye,  or  to  delight  the  nose. 

But  such  as  may  redeeme  lost  healths  againe, 

And  store  of  Hellebore  to  purge  the  braine. 

Such  as  would  cure  the  surfet  man  did  take  75 

From  Adams  Apples:  such  as  faine  would  make 

Mans  second  Paradise,  in  which  should  bee 

The  fruits  of  life,  but  no  forbidden  Tree. 

It  is  a  Garden;    ha,  I  thus  did  say: 

And  maids,  and  Matrons  blushing  runne  away.         80 

But  maids  reenter  these  chast  pleasing  bowers; 

Chast  Matrons  here  gather  the  purest  flowers. 

Feare  not:    from  this  pure  Garden  doe  not  flye, 

In  it  doth  no  obsceane  Priapus  lye. 

This  is  an  Eden  where  no  serpents  bee  85 

To  tempt  the  womans  imbecillitie. 

These  lines  rich  sap  the  fruit  to  heaven  doth  raise; 

Nor  doth  the  Cinnamon  barke  deserve  lesse  praise, 

I  meane  the  stile,  being  pure  and  strong  and  round, 

Not  long  but  Pythy:   being  short  breath'd,  but   sound. 

Such  as  the  grave,  acute,  wise  Seneca  sings,  91 

That  best  of  Tutours  to  the  worst  of  kings. 

Not  long  and  empty;    lofty  but  not  proud; 

Subtle  but  sweet,  high  but  without  a  cloud. 

Well  setled  full  of  nerves,  in  breife  'tis  such  95 

That  in  a  little  hath  comprized  much, 

(65)  helpe  '38.  (79)  ha'  '38.  (85)  bee;  '38.  (92)  Tutour  '38. 


POEMS  127 

Like  th'  Iliads  in  a  Nutshell:    And  I  say 

Thus  much  for  stile;  though  truth  should  not  bee  gay 

In  strumpets  glittering  robes,  yet  ne'rethelesse 

Shee  well  deserves  a  Matrons  comelinesse.  100 

Being  too  brave  shee  would  our  fancies  glut; 

But  we  should  loath  her  being  too  much  the  slut. 

The  reasonable  soule  from  heaven  obtain'd 

The  best  of  bodies;    and  that  man  hath  gain'd 

A  double  praise,  whose  noble  vertues  are  105 

Like  to  the  face,  in  soule  and  body  faire. 

Who  then  would  have  a  noble  sentence  clad 

In  russet-thread-bare  words,  is  full  as  mad 

As  if  Apelles  should  so  fondly  dote, 

As  to  paint  Venus  in  old  Saucy s  coat.  no 

They  erre  that  would  bring  stile  so  basely  under; 

The  lofty  language  of  the  Law  was  thunder. 

The  wisest  'pothecary  knows  'tis  skill 

Neatly  to  candy  o're  the  wholesome  pill. 

Best  Physique  then,  when  gall  with  sugar  meets,    115 

Tempring  Absinthian  bitternesse  with  sweets. 

Such  is  thy  sentence,  such  thy  stile,  being  read. 

Men  see  them  both  together  happ'ly  wed. 

And  so  resolve  to  keepe  them  wed,  as  we 

Resolve  to  give  them  to  posteritie.  120 

'Mongst  thy  resolves  put  my  resolves  in  too; 

Resolve  who's  will,  thus  I  resolve  to  doe: 

That  should  my  errours  choose  anothers  line 

Whereby  to  write,  I  meane  to  live  by  thine. 

(98)  gay.' 38.  (116)  Asbinthian '38  sweats '68. 

(107)  nobler  '52.  (122)  whose  '52. 

(108)  russet  thread-bare  '68. 


128  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


In  Natalem  Augustissimi  Principis  Caroli. 

Thy  first  birth  Mary  was  unto  a  torn  be, 

And  sad  Lucina  cheated  thy  blest  wombe. 

To  heav'n  thou  then  wert  fruitful!,  now  to  earth, 

That  canst  give  Saints  as  well  as  Kings  a  birth. 

(3)  thou  wert  '40,  ff. 


Fpon  bis  Picture. 

WHen  age  hath  made  me  what  I  am  not  now; 
And  every  wrinckle  tels  me  where  the  plow 
Of  time  hath  furrowed;  when  an  Ice  shalt 
flow 

Through  every  vein,  and  all  my  head  wear  snow: 
When  death  displayes  his  coldnesse  in  my  cheeke,     5 
And  I,  my  selfe  in  my  owne  Picture  seeke. 
Not  finding  what  I  am,  but  what  I  was; 
In  doubt  which  to  beleive,  this,  or  my  glasse: 
Yet  though  I  alter,  this  remaines  the  same 
As  it  was  drawne,  retaines  the  primitive  frame,        10 
And  first  complexion;    here  will  still  be  seen 
Blood  on  the  cheeke,  and  Downe  upon  the  chin. 
Here  the  smooth  brow  will  stay,  the  lively  eye, 
The  ruddy  Lip,  and  haire  of  youthfull  dye. 
Behold  what  frailty  we  in  man  may  see,  15 

Whose  Shaddow  is  lesse  given  to  change  then  hee. 

(4)  wear]  be  '40,  '43,  '52,  '68        be-snow  '64. 


POEMS  129 

An  Ode  to  MT  Anthony  Stafford  to  hasten 
him  into  the  country. 


C 


|Ome  spurre  away, 
I  have  no  patience  for  a  longer  stay; 

But  must  goe  downe, 

And  leave  the  chargeable  noise  of  this  great  Towne. 
I  will  the  country  see,  5 

Where  old  simplicity, 
Though  hid  in  gray 
Doth  looke  more  gay 
Then  foppery  in  plush  and  scarlat  clad. 

Farewell  you  City-wits  that  are  10 

Almost  at  Civill  warre; 

'Tis  time  that  I  grow  wise,  when  all  the  world  grows 
mad. 

More  of  my  dayes 
I  will  not  spend  to  gaine  an  Idiots  praise; 

Or  to  make  sport  15 

For  some  slight  Punie  of  the  Innes  of  Court. 
Then  worthy  Stafford  say 
How  shall  we  spend  the  day, 
With  what  delights 
Shorten  the  nights?  20 

When  from  this  tumult  we  are  got  secure; 
Where  mirth  with  all  her  freedome  goes 

Yet  shall  no  finger  loose; 

Where  every  word  is  thought,  and  every  thought  is 
pure. 

(12)  grows]  growe  '40.  (18)  ,].  '38. 


130  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

There  from  the  tree  25 

Wee'l  cherries  plucke,  and  pick  the  strawbery. 

And  every  day 

Go  see  the  wholesome  Country  Girles  make  hay. 
Whose  browne  hath  lovlier  grace, 

Then  any  painted  face,  30 

That  I  doe  know 
Hide-Parke  can  show. 

Where  I  had  rather  gaine  a  kisse  then  meet 
(Though  some  of  them  in  greater  state 

Might  court  my  love  with  plate)  35 

The  beauties  of  the  Cbeape,  and  wives  of  Lumbar dstrect. 

But  thinke  upon 
Some  other  pleasures,  these  to  me  are  none, 

Why  doe  I  prate 

Of  woemen,  that  are  things  against  my  fate?  40 

I  never  meane  to  wed, 
That  torture  to  my  bed. 
My  Muse  is  shee 
My  Love  shall  bee. 

Let  Clownes  get  wealth,  and  heires;  when  I  am  gone, 
And  the  great  Bugbeare  grisly  death  46 

Shall  take  this  idle  breath 
If  I  a  Poem  leave,  that  Poem  is  my  Sonne. 

Of  this,  no  more; 
Wee'l  rather  tast  the  bright  Pomona  s  store.  50 

No  fruit  shall  scape 

Our  pallats,  from  the  damsen,  to  the  grape. 
Then  full  we'l  seek  a  shade, 
And  heare  what  musique's  made; 

(29)  Whose]  whose  '38.         hath]  and  '68. 
(34-S)  No  parentheses  in  '38.  (37)  upon.  '38.  (40)  ?]  om.  '38. 


POEMS  131 

How  Philomell  55 

Her  tale  doth  tell: 
And  how  the  other  Birds  doe  fill  the  quire; 

The  Thrush  and  Blackbird  lend  their  throats 

Warbling  melodious  notes; 
Wee  will  all  sports  enjoy,  which  others  but  desire.     60 

Ours  is  the  skie, 
Where  at  what  fowle  we  please  our  Hauke  shall  flye; 

Nor  will  we  spare 
To  hunt  the  crafty  foxe,  or  timorous  hare; 

But  let  our  hounds  runne  loose  65 

In  any  ground  they'l  choose, 
The  Bucke  shall  fall, 
The  stagge  and  all: 

Our  pleasures  must  from  their  owne  warrants  bee, 
For  to  my  Muse,  if  not  to  mee,  70 

I'me  sure  all  game  is  free; 
Heaven,  Earth,  are  all  but  parts  of  her  great  Royalty. 

And  when  we  meane 
To  tast  of  Bacchus  blessings  now  and  then, 

And  drinke  by  stealth  75 

A  cup  or  two  to  noble  Barkleys  health. 
Fie  take  my  pipe  and  try 
The  Phrygian  melody; 
Which  he  that  heares 
Lets  through  his  eares  80 

A  madnesse  to  distemper  all  the  braine. 
Then  I  another  pipe  will  take 

And  Dorique  musique  make, 
To  Civilize  with  graver  notes  our  wits  againe. 

(58)  Black-birds  '52.  (62)  Whereat  '38,  '40,  '43,  '51. 

(59)  Warbling]  warbling  '38.  (84)  greater  '43,  if. 


132  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


An  answer  to  Afr  Ben  Johnson's  Ode,  to  per- 
swade  him  not  to  leave  the  stage. 


B 


'En  doe  not  leave  the  stage 
Cause  'tis  a  loathsome  age; 
For  Pride,  and  Impudence  will  grow  too  bold, 

When  they  shall  heare  it  told 
They  frighted  thee:    stand  high  as  is  thy  cause,         5 

Their  hisse  is  thy  applause. 

More  just  were  thy  disdaine, 

Had  they  approv'd  thy  vaine. 
So  thou  for  them,  and  they  for  thee  were  borne, 
They  to  incense,  and  thou  as  much  to  scorne.  10 

Wilt  thou  engrosse  thy  store 
Of  wheat,  and  powre  no  more, 

Because  their  Bacon-braines  have  such  a  tast 
As  more  delight  in  mast? 

No;    set  'em  forth  a  board  of  dainties,  full  15 

As  thy  best  Muse  can  cull; 
While  they  the  while  doe  pine 
And  thirst,  midst  all  their  wine. 

What  greater  plague  can  hell  it  selfe  devise, 

Then  to  be  willing  thus  to  tantalize?  20 

Thou  canst  not  find  them  stuffe 
That  will  be  bad  enough 
To  please  their  pallats;   let  'em  thine  refuse 
For  some  Pye-corner  Muse; 

(8)  appov'd  '38.  (23)  thine]  then  '68.  (24)  Pye-corner*  '68. 


POEMS  133 

Shee  is  to  faire  an  hostesse,  'twere  a  sinne  25 

For  them  to  like  thine  Inne: 

'Twas  made  to  entertaine, 

Guests  of  a  nobler  straine, 
Yet  if  they  will  have  any  of  thy  store, 
Give  'em  some  scraps,  and  send  them  from  thy  dore.  30 

And  let  those  things  in  plush, 
'Till  they  be  taught  to  blush 

Like  what  they  will,  and  more  contented  bee 
With  what  Broome  swept  from  thee. 

I  know  thy  worth,  and  that  thy  lofty  straines  35 

Write  not  to  clothes  but  Braines: 
But  thy  great  spleene  doth  rise 
Cause  moles  will  have  no  eyes; 

This  only  in  my  Ben,  I  faulty  find 

He's  angry,  they'le  not  see  him  that  are  blind.         40 

Why  should  the  Scene  be  Mute 

Cause  thou  canst  touch  a  Lute 
And  string  thy  Horace?  let  each  Muse  of  nine 

Claime  thee,  and  say  thou  art  mine. 
'Twer  fond  to  let  all  other  flames  expire  45 

To  sitt  by  Pindar's  fire: 

For  by  so  strange  neglect, 

I  should  my  selfe  suspect 
The  Palsie  were  as  well,  thy  braines  disease; 
If  they  could  shake  thy  Muse  which  way  they  please. 50 

And  though  thou  well  canst  sing, 
The  glories  of  thy  King; 
And  on  the  wings  of  verse  his  chariot  beare 
To  heaven,  and  fixe  it  there: 

(36)  cloths  '40        deaths  '43,  ff.  (42)  a]  my  '43.  ff- 


134  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Yet  let  thy  Muse  as  well  some  raptures  raise,  55 

To  please  him,  as  to  praise. 

I  would  not  have  thee  choose 

Only  a  treble  Muse; 

But  have  this  envious,  ignorant  Age  to  know, 
Thou  that  canst  sing  so  high,  canst  reach  as  low.       60 


A  Dialogue.     Tbirsis.     Lalage. 

Th.          "1%      ^TY  Lalage  when  I  behold 

%/ 1  So  great  a  cold, 

-1-  T  JL    And  not  a  spark  of  heat  in  thy  desire, 
I  wonder  what  strange  power  of  thine 

Kindles  in  mine     5 

So  bright  a  flame,  and  such  a  burning  fire. 
Lalag.     Can  Tbirsis  in  Philosophy 

A  Truant  bee, 

And  not  have  learn'd  the  power  of  the  Sun? 
How  he  to  sublunary  things,  10 

A  fervour  brings, 

Yet  in  himselfe  is  subject  unto  none? 
Tb.          But  why  within  thy  eyes  appeare 

Never  a  teare, 

That  cause  from  mine  perpetuall  showres  to 
fall?  15 

La.          Foole  'tis  the  power  of  fire  you  know 

To  melt  the  snow, 

Yet  has  no  moisture  in  it  selfe  at  all. 
Tb.         How  can  I  be,  deare  Virgin  show, 

Both  fire  and  snow?     20 

(3)  thy]  my '68.  (n)  favour '38. 

(9)  Son?  '43  Son;  '52. 


POEMS  135 

Doe  you  that  are  the  cause  the  reason  tell; 
More  then  miracle  to  me 

It  seemes  to  be, 
That  so  much  heate  with  so  much  cold 

should  dwell. 

La.         The  reason  I  will  render  thee;  25 

Why  both  should  bee. 
Audacious  Thirsis  in  thy  love  too  bold, 
'Cause  thy  sawcinesse  durst  aspire 

To  such  a  fire, 

Thy  love  is  hot;   but  'tis  thy  hope  is  cold.    30 
Tb.         Let  pitty  move  thy  gentle  brest 

To  one  opprest; 

This  way,  or  that,  give  ease  to  my  desire; 
And  either  let  Loves  fire  be  lost 

In  hopes  cold  frost,     35 
Or  hopes  cold  frost  be  warm'd  in  loves  quick 

fire. 
La.         O  neither  Boy;    neither  of  these 

Shall  wdrke  thy  ease. 

I'le  pay  thy  rashnesse  with  immortal  paine, 
As  hope  doth  strive  to  freeze  thy  flame,       40 

Love  melts  the  same: 

As  Love  doth  melt  it,  Hope  doth  freez't  again. 
Tb.         Come  gentle  swaines  lend  me  a  groane 

To  ease  my  moane. 

Chorus.  Ah  cruell  Love  how  great  a  power  is  thine  ?45 
Vnder  the  Poles  although  we  lye 

Thou  mak'st  us  frye: 
And  thou  canst  make  us  freeze  beneath  the  line. 

I  have  arranged  the  whole  poem  in  regard  to  speakers  names,  etc.,  in  the  same 
manner  as  is  the  full  page  of  the  text  in  '38.  The  half  pages  preceding  and  fol- 
lowing this  page  are  more  irregular. 

(42)  .]  om,  '38.  (43)   Th.]  Placed  before  line  42  in  '38. 


136  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


A  Dialogue  betwixt  a  Nymph  and  a  Sbepheard. 

Nymp:  Hy  sigh  you  swain  ?   this  passion  is 

not  common; 

I'st  for  your  kids,  or  Lambkins? 

Sb:  For  a  woman. 

Nymp:  How  faire  is  shee  that  on  so  sage  a  brow 

Prints  lowring  looks? 

Sbep:  lust  such  a  toy  as  thou. 

Nymp:  Is  shee  a  maid?  5 

Sb:  What  man  can  answer  that? 

Nymp:  Or  widdow? 
Sb:  No. 

Nym:  What  then? 

Sh:  I  know  not  what. 

Saint-like  shee  lookes,  a  Syren  if  shee  sing. 

Her  eyes  are  starres,  her  mind  is  everything. 
Nymp:  If  she  be  fickle,  Shepheard  leave  to  wooe 

Or  fancy  mee. 

Sb:  No  thou  art  woman  too;  10 

Nymp:  But  I  am  constant. 

Sb:  Then  thou  art  not  faire. 

Nymp:  Bright  as  the  morning. 

Sh:  Wavering  as  the  Ayre. 

Nymp:  What  grows  upon  this  cheeke? 
Sh:  A  pure  Carnation. 

Nym:     Come  tast  a  kisse. 
Sh:  .  O  sweet,  6  sweet  Temptation! 

(l)  comon;  '38.  (12)  as  air  '68. 

(6)  What]  what  '38.  (14)  a]  and  "52. 


POEMS  137 

Cbo:          Ah  Love,  and  canst  thou  never  loose  the 

feild?  15 

Where  Cupid  layes  a  seige,  the  towne   must 

yeild. 

He  warmes  the  chillier  blood  with  glowing  fire, 
And  thaws  the  Icy  frost  of  cold  desire. 

(16)  a]  the  '40  ff. 


A  Pastorall  Ode. 


C 


Oy  Ccelia  dost  thou  see 
Yon  hollow  mountaine  tottering  o're  the  plaine, 

O're  which  a  fatall  Tree 
With  treacherous  shade  betray es  the  sleepy  swaine? 

Beneath  it  is  a  Cell,  5 

As  full  of  horrour  as  my  brest  of  care, 

Ruine  therein  might  dwell; 
As  a  fit  roome  for  guilt  and  black  dispaire. 

Thence  will  I  headlong  throw 
This  wretched  weight,  this  heape  of  misery;  10 

And  in  the  dust  below, 
Bury  my  Carcasse,  and  the  thought  of  thee: 

Which  when  I  finish'd  have, 
O  hate  me  dead,  as  thou  hast  done  alive; 

And  come  not  neare  my  grave  15 
Least  I  take  heat  from  thee,  and  so  revive. 

(0  COy]  GO '68.  do)  wight '68.  (12)  thought! '68. 


138  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


A  Song. 

MVsick  thou  Queene  of  soules,  get  up  and  string 
Thy  pow'rful  Lute,  and  some  sad  requiem 
sing, 

Till  Rocks  requite  thy  Eccho  with  a  groane: 
And  the  dull  clifts  repeate  the  duller  tone: 
Then  on  a  suddaine  with  a  nimble  hand  5 

Runne  gently  o're  the  Chordes,  and  so  command 
The  Pine  to  dance,  the  Oake  his  Roots  forgoe, 
The  holme  and  aged  Elme  to  foot  it  too; 
Mirtles  shall  caper,  lofty  Cedars  runne; 
And  call  the  Courtly  Palme  to  make  up  one;  10 

Then  in  the  midst  of  all  their  lolly  traine, 
Strike  a  sad  note;  and  fixe  'em  Trees  againe. 


The  Song  of  Discord. 

LEt  Linus  and  Amphions  lute, 
With  Orpheus  citterne  now  be  mute. 
The  harshest  voice  the  sweetest  note; 
The  Raven  has  the  choicest  throate. 
A  set  of  Frogs  a  quire  for  mee,  5 

The  Mandrake  shall  the  Chaunter  bee. 
Where  neither  voice,  nor  tunes  agree; 
This  is  discords  Harmonic. 
Thus  had  Orpheus  learn'd  to  play, 
The  following  Trees  had  run  away.  10 


POEMS  139 


To  one  Overhearing  his  private  discourse. 

I   Wonder  not  my  Lczda  farre  can  see, 
Since  for  her  eyes  shee  might  an  Eagle  bee, 
And  dare  the  Sun;    but  that  shee  heares  so  well 
As  that  shee  could  my  private  whisperings  tell, 
I  stand  amaz'd;    her  eares  are  not  so  long,  5 

That    they    could    reach    my    words;     hence   then   it 

sprung: 

Love  overhearing  fled  to  her  bright  eare, 
Glad  he  had  got  a  tale  to  whisper  there. 


Epigram:  47  ex  decimo  Libra  Martialis. 

THese  are  things  that  being  possest 
Will  make  a  life  that's  truly  blest: 
Estate  bequeath'd,  not  got  with  toyle; 
A  good  hot  fire,  a  gratefull  soyle. 
No  strife,  warm  clothes,  a  quiet  soule,  5 

A  strength  intire,  a  body  whole. 
Prudent  simplicity,  equall  freinds, 
A  diet  that  no  Art  commends. 
A  night  not  drunke,  and  yet  secure; 
A  bed  not  sad,  yet  chast  and  pure.  10 

Long  sleepes  to  make  the  nights  but  short, 
A  will  be  to  but  what  thou  art. 
Naught  rather  choose;    contented  lye, 
And  neither  feare,  nor  wish  to  dye. 

Martialis,  '38.  (s)  cloths  '40,  '43         deaths  '52,  ff. 

(3)  with]  by  '68.  (10)  not]  nor  '43. 


140  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


To  the  Fertuous  and  noble  Lady,  the  Lady  Cotton. 

Tls  not  to  force  more  teares  from  your  sad  eye, 
That  we  write  thus;    that  were  a  Piety 
Turn'd  guilt  and  sinne;  we  only  beg  to  come, 
And  pay  due  tribute  to  his  sacred  tombe. 
The  muses  did  divide  his  Love  with  you,  5 

And  justly  therefore  may  be  mourners  too. 
Instead  of  Cypresse,  they  have  brought  fresh  Baies 
To  crowne  his  Vrne,  and  every  dirge  is  Praise. 
But  since  with  him  the  learned  tongues  are  gone, 
Necessity  here  makes  us  use  our  owne.  10 

Read  in  his  praise  your  owne,  you  cannot  misse; 
For  he  was  but  our  Wonder,  you  were  his. 

(8)Urin,'52        is]  his '52,  ff. 

In  the  Partntalia  this  poem  is  signed  Tho.  Randolph. 


An  Elegie  on  the  death  of  that  Renowned  and 

Noble  Knight  Sir  Rowland  Cotton 

of  Bellaport  in  Shropshire 

Rich  as  was  Cottons  worth,  I  wish  each  line; 
And  every  verse  I  breath  like  him,  a  Mine. 
That  by  his  vertues  might  created  bee 
A  new  strange  miracle,  wealth  in  Poetrie. 
But  that  invention  cannot  sure  be  poore,  5 

That  but  relates  a  part  of  his  large  store. 
His  youth  began,  as  when  the  Sun  doth  rise 
Without  a  Cloud,  and  clearly  trots  the  skies. 

Simply  An  Elegie.  in  Par. 

(l)  so  in  Parentalia  and  "40,  ff.  Cottons  '38. 


POEMS  141 

And  whereas  other  youths  commended  bee 

From  conceived  Hopes,  his  was  maturitie.  10 

Where  other  springs  boast  blossoms  fairely  blowne, 

His  was  a  harvest,  and  had  fruits  full  growne. 

So  that  he  seem'd  a  Nestor  here  to  raigne 

In  wisdome,  ^jon-like,  turn'd  young  againe. 

This,  Royall  Henry,  whose  majestique  eye  15 

Saw  thorough  men,  did  from  his  court  deserve, 

And  thither  call'd  him,  and  then  fixed  him  there 

One  of  the  prime  starres  in  his  glorious  spheare. 

And  (Princely  Master)  witnesse  this  with  mee, 

He  liv'd  not  there  to  serve  himselfe  but  thee.  20 

No  Silke-worme  Courtier,  such  as  study  there 

First  how  to  get  their  cloaths,  then  how  to  weare. 

And  though  in  favour  high,  he  ne're  was  known 

To  promote  others  suits  to  pay  for's  own. 

He  valued  more  his  Master,  and  knew  well,  25 

To  use  his  love  was  noble;    base  to  sell. 

Many  there  be  live  in  the  Court  we  know 

To  serve  for  Pageants,  and  make  up  the  show; 

And  are  not  servicable  there  at  all 

But  now  and  then  at  some  great  Festivall.  30 

He  serv'd  for  nobler  use,  the  secret  cares 

Of  common-wealths,  and  mystique  State  affaires; 

And  when  great  Henry  did  his  Maxims  heare, 

He  wore  him  as  a  lewell  in  his  Eare. 

Yet  short  he  came  not,  nay  he  all  out-went  35 

In  what  some  call  a  Courtiers  complement. 

An  Active  body  that  in  subtile  wise 

Turnes  pliable  to  any  exercise. 

(10)  Hopes;  '38.  (35)  outwent  Par. 

(19)  Mager  '68.  (38)  excuse  '43,  '$*• 

(21)  No]  So  '52  Counters  "68. 


142  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

For  when  he  leapt,  the  people  dar'd  to  say 

He  was  borne  all  of  fire,  and  wore  no  clay.  40 

Which  was  the  cause  too  that  he  wrestled  so, 

'Tis  not  fires  nature  to  be  kept  below. 

His  course  he  so  perform'd  with  nimble  pace, 

The  time  was  not  perceiv'd  measur'd  the  race. 

As  it  were  true  that  some  late  Artists  say,  45 

The  Earth  mov'd  too,  and  run  the  other  way. 

All  so  soone  finish'd,  when  the  match  was  wonne 

The  Gazers  by  ask'd  why  they  not  begunne. 

When  he  in  masque  us'd  his  harmonious  feet, 

The  Sphears  could  not  in  comelier  order  meet;         50 

Nor  move  more  gracefull,  whether  they  advance 

Their  measures  forward,  or  retire  their  dance. 

There  be  have  scene  him  in  our  Henry's  Court 

The  glory  and  the  envy  of  that  sport. 

And  carping  like  a  constellation  rise,  55 

Having  fixt  upon  him  all  the  Ladies  eyes. 

But  these  in  him  I  would  not  vertues  call, 
But  that  the  world  must  know,  that  he  had  all. 
When  Henry  dy'd   (our  universall  woe) 
Willing  was  Cotton  to  dye  with  him  too.  60 

And  as  neare  death  he  came  as  neare  could  bee; 
Himselfe  he  buried  in  obscuritie, 
Entomb'd  within  his  study  wals,  and  there 
Only  the  Dead  his  conversation  were, 
Yet  was  he  not  alone;    for  every  day  65 

Each  Muse  came  thither  with  her  sprig  of  Bay. 
The  Graces  round  about  him  did  appeare, 
The  Genii  of  all  Nations  all  met  there. 

(49)  Musick  '68.  (53)  Henries   Par. 

(56)  fix'd   Par.         upon]  on  '64,  '68. 

(66)  Muse~\  not  in  italics  in  Par. 

(67),  (68)  Graces  and  Genii  not  in  italics  in  Par. 


POEMS  143 

And  while  immur'd  he  sat  thus  close  at  home, 

To  him  the  wealth  of  all  the  world  did  come.  70 

He  had  a  language  to  salute  the  Sunne, 

Where  he  unharnest,  and  where's  teame  begunne: 

The  tongues  of  all  the  East  to  him  were  known 

As  Naturall,  as  they  were  borne  his  own. 

Which  from  his  mouth  so  sweetly  did  intice,  75 

As  with  their  language  he  had  mix'd  their  spice. 

In  Greeke  so  fluent,  that  with  it  compare 

Th'  Athenian  Olives,  and  they  saplesse  are. 

Rome  did  submit  her  Fasces,  and  confesse 

Her  Tully  might  talke  more,  and  yet  speake  lesse.  80 

All  Sciences  were  lodg'd  in  his  large  brest, 

And  in  that  Pallace  thought  themselves  so  blest 

They  never  meant  to  part,  but  he  should  bee 

Sole  Monarch,  and  dissolve  their  Heptarchie. 

But  6  how  vaine  is  mans  fraile  Harmonic!  85 

We  all  are  swannes,  he  that  sings  best  must  die. 

Death  knowledge  nothing  makes,  when  we  come  there, 

We  need  no  Language,  nor  Interpreter. 

Who  would  not  laugh  at  him  now,  that  should  seeke 

Jn  Cotton  s  Vrne  for  Hebrew  or  for  Greeke?  90 

But  his  more  heav'nly  graces  with  him  yet 

Live  constant,  and  about  him  circled  sit 

A  bright  Retinue,  and  on  each  falls  downe 

A  robe  of  Glory,  and  on  each  a  Crowne. 

Then  Madam  (though  you  have  a  losse  sustained 
Both  infinite,  and  ne're  to  be  regain'd  96 

Here  in  this  world)  dry  your  sad  eyes,  once  more 
You  shall  againe  enter  the  Nuptiall  dore 

(79)  Fasces'}  not  in  italics  in  Par. 

(88)  no]  nor  Par. 

(91)  heavenly  Par. 

(95)  Par.     leaves  a  line  blank  between  94  and  95. 


144  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

A  sprightly  bride;   where  you  shall  clothed  bee 

In  garments  weav'd  of  Immortalitie.  100 

Nor  greive  because  he  left  you  not  a  Sonne, 

To  Image  Cotton  forth  now  he  is  gone. 

For  it  had  been  a  wrong  to  his  great  Name 

T'have  liv'd  in  any  thing  but  Heaven,  and  Fame. 

(102)  Cotton    Par.  and  '40,  ff.  Cotton  "38. 

Poem  signed  Tho:  Randolph  in  Par. 


Ausonii  Epigram  38. 

SHee  which  would  not  I  would  choose: 
Shee  which  would  I  would  refuse. 
Venus  could  my  mind  but  tame; 
But  not  satisfie  the  same. 

Inticements  offer'd  I  despise,  5 

And  deny'd  I  slightly  prize. 
I  would  neither  glut  my  mind, 
Nor  yet  too  much  torment  find. 
Twice  girt  Diana  doth  not  take  mee, 
Nor  Venus  naked  joy  full  make  mee.  10 

The  first  no  pleasure  hath  to  joy  mee, 
And  the  last  enough  to  cloy  nice. 
But  a  crafty  wench  I'de  have 
That  can  sell  the  act  I  crave. 

And  joyne  at  once  in  me  these  two,  15 

I  will,  and  yet  I  will  not  doe. 

(6)  This  line  is  om.  in  '68. 


POEMS  145 


On  the  Death  of  a  Nightingale. 

GOe  solitary  wood,  and  henceforth  be 
Acquainted  with  no  other  Harmonic, 
Then  the  Pyes  chattering,  or  the  shreekingnote 
Of  bodeing  Owles,  and  fatall  Ravens  throate. 
Thy  sweetest  Chanters  dead,  that  warbled  forth         5 
Layes,  that  might  tempests  calme,  and  still  the  North; 
And  call  downe  Angels  from  their  glorious  Spheare 
To  heare  her  Songs,  and  learne  new  Anthems  there. 
That  soule  is  fled,  and  to  Elisium  gone; 
Thou  a  poore  desert  left;    goe  then  and  runne,         10 
Begge  there  to  stand  a  grove,  and  if  shee  please 
To  sing  againe  beneath  thy  shadowy  Trees; 
The  soules  of  happy  Lovers  crown'd  with  blisses 
Shall  flock  about  thee,  and  keepe  time  with  kisses. 

(9)  Elision  '43,  '52,  '64.  (n)  stand]  want  '68. 


Vpon  the  report  of  the  King  of  Swedens  Death. 

I'Le  not  beleive't;    if  fate  should  be  so  crosse 
Nature  would  not  be  silent  of  her  losse. 
Can  he  be  dead,  and  no  portents  appeare? 
No  pale  Ecclipse  of  th'  sun  to  let  us  feare 
What  we  should  suffer,  and  before  his  light  5 

Put  out,  the  world  inveloped  in  Night? 
What  thundring  torrents  the  flush'd  welkin  tare? 
What  apparition  kill'd  him  in  the  aire? 
When  Casar  dy'd  there  were  convulsion  fits; 
And  nature  seem'd  to  run  out  of  her  wits.  10 

(7)  tear?  '68. 


146  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

At  that  sad  object  Tybers  bosome  swell'd, 

And  scarce  from  drowning  all,  by  love  withheld. 

And  shall  we  give  this  mighty  Conquerour 

That  in  a  great  and  a  more  holy  warre, 

Was  pulling  downe  the  Empire  which  he  reard,         15 

A  fall  unmourn'd  of  Nature  and  unfear'd; 

A  death  (unlesse  the  league  of  heav'n  withstood) 

Lesse  wept  then  with  an  universall  flood? 

If  I  had  scene  a  Comet  in  the  aire 

With  glorious  eye,  and  bright  disheveld  haire,  20 

And  on  a  suddaine  with  his  gilded  traine 

Drop  downe;    I  should  have  said  that  Sweden's  slaine, 

Shot  like  that  starre;    or  if  the  earth  had  shooke 

Like  a  weake  floore,  the  falling  roofe  had  broke; 

I  should  have  said  the  mighty  King  is  gone;  25 

Fel'd  as  the  tallest  tree  in  Libanon. 

Alasse  if  he  were  dead;   we  need  no  post, 

Uery  instinct  would  tell  us  what  we  lost. 

And  a  chill  damp  (as  at  the  generall  doome) 

Creepe  through  each  brest  and  we  should  know  for 

whome.  30 

His  German  conquests  are  not  yet  compleat, 
And  when  they  are,  ther's  more  remaining  yet. 
The  world  is  full  of  sin,  not  every  Land 
O're  growne  with  schisme  hath  felt  his  purging  hand. 
The  Pope  is  not  confounded,  and  the  Turke,  35 

Nor  was  he  sure  design'd  for  a  lesse  worke. 
But  if  our  sinnes  have  stop'd  him  in  the  source, 
In  mid'st  Careere  of  his  victorious  course. 
And  heaven  would  trust  the  dulnesse  of  our  sence 
So  farre,  not  to  prepare  us  with  portents.  40 

(27)  A  lass  '68         no]  not  '68.  (33)  not]  nor  '38  and  '68. 

(28)  Every '68         instinct'^o,  '43,  '52.  (36)  He '40. 


POEMS  147 

'Tis  we  have  that  the  losse,  and  he  hath  caught 
His  heav'nly  garland  e're  his  worke  be  wrought. 
But  I,  before  Tie  undertake  to  greive 
So  great  a  losse,  will  choose  not  to  beleive. 

(42)  be]  he  '52. 


On  Sr  Robert  Cotton  the  Antiquary. 

POsterity  hath  many  fates  bemoan'd, 
But  ages  long  since  past  for  thee  have  groan'd. 
Times  Trophies  thou  didst  rescue  from  the  grave 
Who  in  thy  death  a  second  buriall  have. 
Cotton,  deaths  conquest  now  compleat  I  see, 
Who  ne're  had  vanquish'd  all  things  but  in  thee. 


An  Elegif 

HEav'n  knowe  my  Love  to  thee,  fed  on  desires 
So  hallowed,  and  unmixt  with  vulgar  fires, 
As  are  the  purest  beams  shot  from  the  Sun 
At  his  full  height;    and  the  devotion 
Of  dying  Martyrs  could  not  burne  more  cleare,          5 
Nor  Innocence  in  her  first  robes  appeare 
Whiter  then  our  Affections;   they  did  show 
Like  frost  forc'd  out  of  flames,  and  fire  from  snow. 
So  pure,  the  Phoenix  when  shee  did  refine 
Her  age  to  youth,  borrowed  no  flames  but  mine.      10 
But  now  my  daies  o' recast,  for  I  have  now 
Drawne  Anger  like  a  tempest  o're  the  brow 

(4)  devotion.  '38. 


148  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Of  my  faire  Mistresse;    those  your  glorious  eyes 

Whence  I  was  wont  to  see  my  day  starre  rise, 

Threat  like  revengefull  Meteors,  and  I  feele  15 

My  torment,  and  my  guilt  double  my  hell. 

'Twas  a  mistake,  and  might  have  veniall  been, 

Done  to  another,  but  it  was  made  sin, 

And  justly  Mortall  too  by  troubling  Thee, 

Slight  wrongs  are  treasons  done  to  Majestic.  20 

O  all  yee  blest  Ghosts  of  deceased  Loves, 

That  new  live  Sainted  in  th'  Elisian  groves 

Mediate  for  mercy  for  me;    at  her  shrine 

Meet  in  full  quire,  and  joyne  your  praiers  with  mine. 

Conjure  her  by  the  merits  of  your  kisses,  25 

By  your  past  sufferings  and  present  blisses; 

Conjure  her  by  your  mutuall  hopes,  and  feares; 

By  all  your  intermixed  sighes,  and  teares, 

To  plead  my  pardon;    goe  to  her  and  tell 

That  you  will  walke  the  guardian  sentinell,  30 

My  soules  safe  Genii;    that  she  need  not  feare 

A  mutinous  thought,  or  one  close  rebell  there. 

But  what  needs  that,  when  shee  alone  sits  there 

Sole  Angell  of  that  Orbe?  in  her  own  spheare 

Alone  shee  sits,  and  can  secure  it  free  35 

From  all  irregular  motions,  only  shee 

Can  give  the  balsome  that  must  cure  this  sore; 

And  the  sweet  Antidote  to  sin  no  more. 


(22)  the'  Elisian  '43.  (34)  ?]  ;  '38. 

(26)  ;]  .    '38.  (38)  the]  thee  '68. 


POEMS  149 


H'  'Ev<f>vovs  i)  iroirjffis  17  navtuov:   Arist. 


F 


Rom  witty  men  and  mad 
All  Poetry  conception  had. 


No  sires  but  these  will  Poetry  admit, 
Madnesse  or  wit. 

This  definition  Poetry  doth  fit, 

It  is  a  witty  madnesse,  or  mad  wit. 

Only  these  two  Poetique  heat  admits, 
A  witty  man,  or  one  that's  out  of's  wits. 


'38.  11.     2  and  3  not  separated  in  '38. 

Arist.]  om.  '43,  '52.  (7)  Poetiques  "52. 


Ad  Amicum  Litigantem. 

WOuld  you  commence  a  Poet  Sr,  and  be 
A  graduat  in  the  thredbare  mysterie? 
The  Oxes  ford  will  no  man  thither  bring, 
Where  the  horse  hoofe  rais'd  the  Pegasian  spring. 
Nor  will  the  bridge  through  which  low  Cham  doth 
runne,  5 

Direct  you  to  the  bankes  of  Helicon. 
If  in  that  art  you  meane  to  take  degrees, 
Bedlam's  the  best  of  universities. 
There  study  it,  and  when  you  would  no  more 
A  Poet  be,  goe  drinke  some  Hellebore,  10 

Which  drugge  when  I  had  tasted,  soone  I  left 
The  bare  Parnassus,  and  the  barren  cleft; 


150  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  can  no  more  one  of  their  Nation  bee, 

Because  recover'd  of  my  lunacie. 

But  you  may  then  succeed  me  in  my  place  15 

Of  Poet,  no  pretence  to  make  your  grace 

Denied  you,  for  you  goe  to  law,  'tis  said; 

And  then  'tis  ta'ne  for  granted  you  are  mad. 


In  Corydonem  y  Corinnam. 

AH  wretch  in  thy  Corinna's  love  unblest! 
How  strange  a  fancy  doth  torment  thy  brest? 
When  shee  desires  to  sport  thou  saist  her  nay; 
When  shee  denyes  then  thou  desir'st  to  play. 
Love  burnes  you  both.   (6  'tis  a  happy  turne!)  5 

But  'tis  at  severall  times  love  both  doth  burne. 
When  scorching  heat  hath  Corydons  heart  possest, 
Then  raignes  a  frost  in  cold  Corinnas  brest. 
And  when  a  frost  in  Corydon  doth  raigne, 
Then  is  Corinnas  brest  on  fire  againe.  10 

Why  then  with  Corydon  is  it  summer  prime, 
When  with  Corinna  it  is  winter  time? 
Or  why  should  then  Corinnas  summer  bee 
When  it  is  winter  Corydon  with  thee? 
Can  Ice  from  fire,  or  fire  from  Ice  proceed?  15 

Ah  jest  not  Love  is  so  severe  a  deed! 
I  bid  thee  not  Corydons  flame  to  blow 
Cleane  out;    nor  cleane  to  melt  Corinnas  snow. 
Burne  both!  freeze  both!  let  mutuall  Fervour  hold 
His  and  her  brest,  or  his  and  her's  a  cold.  20 

(6)  doth  both  '43,  '52. 
(17)  flane  '64. 


POEMS  151 


To  one  admiring  her  selfe  in  a  Looking-Glasse. 

FAire  Lady  when  you  see  the  Grace 
Of  Beauty  in  your  Looking-Glasse: 
A  stately  forhead,  smooth  and  high, 
And  full  of  Princely  Majesty. 

A  sparkling  eye,  no  gemme  so  faire,  $ 

Whose  lustre  dimmes  the  Cyprian  starre. 
A  glorious  cheeke  divinely  sweet, 
Wherein  both  Roses  kindly  meet. 
A  cherry  Lip  that  would  entice 

Even  Gods  to  kisse  at  any  price.  10 

You  thinke  no  beauty  is  so  rare 
That  with  your  shaddow  might  compare. 
That  your  reflection  is  alone, 
The  thing  that  men  most  dote  upon. 
Madam,  alas  your  Glasse  doth  lye,  15 

And  you  are  much  deceiv'd;    for  I 
A  beauty  know  of  richer  grace, 
(Sweet  be  not  angry)  'tis  your  face. 
Hence  then  6  learne  more  milde  to  bee, 
And  leave  to  lay  your  blame  on  mee;  20 

If  me  your  reall  substance  move; 
When  you  so  much  your  Shaddow  Love. 
Wise  nature  would  not  let  your  eye 
Looke  on  her  owne  bright  majestic; 
Which  had  you  once  but  gaz'd  upon,  25 

You  could,  except  your  selfe,  love  none: 
What  then  you  cannot  love,  let  me, 
That  face  I  can,  you  cannot  see. 

Now  you  have  what  to  loue,  you'l  say 
What  then  is  left  for  me  I  pray?  30 


152  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

My  face  sweet  hart  if  it  please  thee; 
That  which  you  can,  I  cannot  see: 
So  either  love  shall  gaine  his  due, 
Your's  sweet  in  mee,  and  mine  in  you. 


An  Eglogue  occasioned  by  two  Doctors 
disputing  upon  predestination. 

Corydon. 

HO  jolly  Tbirsis  whither  in  such  hast? 
I'st  for  a  wager  that  you  run  so  fast? 
Or  past  your  houre  below  yon  hawthorne  tree 
Does  longing  Galatea  looke  for  thee? 

Thirsis. 

No  Corydon,  I  heard  young  Daphnis  say  5 

Alexis  challeng'd  Tityrus  to  day 
Who  best  shall  sing  of  Shepheards  Art,  and  praise; 
But  harke  I  heare  'em,  listen  to  their  laies. 

Tityrus. 

Alexis  read,  what  means  this  mistique  thing; 
An  Ewe  I  had  two  lambs  at  once  did  bring:  10 

Th'  one  black  as  lett;    the  other  white  as  snow: 
Say  in  just  providence  how  it  could  be  so? 

Alexis. 

Will  you  Paris  goodnesse  therefore  partiall  call, 
That  might  as  well  have  given  thee  none  at  all? 

Tityrus. 

Were  they  not  both  eand  by  the  selfe  same  Ewe?    15 
How  could  they  merit  then  so  different  hue? 

(2)  thou  run'st  '68.  (9)  mastique  '68. 

(3)  past]  past  past  '43,  '52.  (16)  merit]  ment  '43,  '52. 


POEMS  153 

Poore  lamb  alas;    and  couldst  thou,  yet  unborne, 

Sin  to  deserve  the  Guilt  of  such  a  scorne? 

Thou  hadst  not  yet  fowl'd  a  religious  spring, 

Nor  fed  on  plots  of  hallowed  grasse,  to  bring  20 

Staines  to  thy  fleece;    nor  browz'd  upon  a  tree 

Sacred  to  Pan  or  Pales  Deitie. 

The  Gods  are  ignorant  if  they  not  foreknow; 

And  knowing,  'tis  unjust  to  use  thee  so. 

Alexis. 

Tytir  with  me  contend,  or  Corydon;  25 

But  let  the  Gods,  and  their  high  wills  alone. 
For  in  our  flocks  that  freedome  challenge  wee, 
This  kid  is  sacrific'd,  and  that  goes  free. 

Tityrus. 

Freed  where  you  will  my  Lambs,  what  boots  it  us 
To  watch,  and  water,  fold,  and  drive  you  thus.        30 
This  on  the  barren  mountaines  flesh  can  gleane, 
That  fed  in  flowry  pastures  will  be  leane. 

Alexis. 

Plow,  sowe,  and  compasse,  nothing  boots  at  all, 
Vnlesse  the  dew  upon  the  Tilth's  doe  fall. 
So  labour  sylly  Shepheards  what  wee  can,  35 

All's  vaine,  unlesse  a  blessing  drop  from  Pan. 

Tityrus. 
Ill  thrive  thy  Ewes  if  thou  these  lyes  maintaine: 

Alexis. 
And  may  thy  Goats  miscarry  sawcy  swaine. 

Thyrsis. 

Fie,  Shepheards  fie!  while  you  these  strifes  begin, 
Here  creepes  the  woolfe;   and  there  the  fox  gets  in.   40 

(18)  ?]  !  '40,  ff.  (37)  Ewes]  Theve*  '38. 


154  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

To  your  vaine  piping  on  so  deepe  a  reed 

The  Lambkins  listen,  but  forget  to  feed. 

It  gentle  swains  befits  of  Love  to  sing, 

How  Love  left  heaven;    and  heav'ns  immortal  King, 

His  coaeternall  Father,  O  admire,  45 

Love  is  a  Sonne  as  an  ancient  as  his  sire. 

His  Mother  was  a  Virgin:    how  could  come 

A  birth  so  great,  and  from  so  chast  a  wombe! 

His  cradle  was  a  manger;    Shepheards  see 

True  faith  delights  in  poore  simplicitie.  50 

He  pres'd  no  grapes,  nor  prun'd  the  fruitfull  vine, 

But  could  of  water  make  a  brisker  wine. 

Nor  did  he  plow  the  earth,  and  to  his  Barne 

The  harvest  bring,  nor  thresh,  and  grind  the  Corne. 

Without  all  these  Love  could  supply  our  need;         55 

And  with  five  Loaves,  five  thousand  Hungers  feed. 

More  wonders  did  he,  for  all  which  suppose 

How  he  was  crown'd,  with  Lilly,  or  with  Rose? 

The  winding  Ivy,  or  the  glorious  Bay, 

Or  mirtle,  with  the  which  Venus,  they  say,  60 

Girts  her  proud  temples?  Shepheards  none  of  them 

But  wore  (poore  head)  a  thorny  Diadem. 

Feet  to  the  Lame  he  gave;    with  which  they  run 

To  worke  their  Surgeons  last  destruction. 

The  blind  from  him  had  eyes;    but  us'd  that  light  65 

Like  Basylisques  to  kill  him  with  their  sight. 

Lastly  he  was  betray'd  (6  sing  of  this) 

How  Love  could  be  betray'd!  'twas  with  a  kisse. 

And  then  his  Innocent  hands,  and  guiltlesse  feet 

(44)  heav'ns]]  heavens  '43,  ff.  (46)  his]  the  '68. 

(45)  Father.    '38.  (48)  !]  ?  '43,  '5*.    •  '68. 
Between  11.  50  and  51  Harl.  MS.  3357  has  the  following  couplet: 

Deepe  Sages,  by  a  Star,  his  Mansion  sought, 

Poore  Swaines,  by  his  owne  Harbingers  were  tought. 


POEMS  155 

Were  nayl'd  unto  the  Crosse,  striving  to  meet          70 
In  his  spread  armes  his  spouse,  so  mild  in  showe 
He  seem'd  to  court  th'  Imbraces  of  his  foe. 
Through  his  pearc'd  side,  through  which  a  speare  was 

sent, 

A  torrent  of  all  flowing  Balsame  went. 
Run  Amarillis  run:   one  drop  from  thence  75 

Cures  thy  sad  soule,  and  drives  all  anguish  hence. 
Goe  sunburnt  Tkestylis,  goe,  and  repaire 
Thy  beauty  lost,  and  be  againe  made  faire. 
Love-sick  Amyntas  get  a  Pbiltrum  here, 
To  make  thee  Lovely  to  thy  truly  deare.  80 

But  coy  Licoris  take  the  Pearle  from  thine, 
And  take  the  bloodshot  from  Alexis  eyne. 
Weare  this  an  Amulet  'gainst  all  Syrens  smiles, 
The  stings  of  snakes,  and  Teares  of  Crocodiles. 
Now  Love  is  dead:   Oh  no,  he  never  dyes;  85 

Three  dayes  he  sleepes,  and  then  againe  doth  rise 
(Like  faire  Aurora  from  the  Easterne  Bay) 
And  with  his  beams  drives  all  our  clouds  away: 
This  pipe  unto  our  flocks,  this  sonnet  get. 
But  hoe,  I  see  the  Sun  ready  to  set,  90 

Good  night  to  all;    for  the  great  night  is  come; 
Flocks  to  your  folds  and  shepheards  hye  you  home! 
To  morrow  morning,  when  we  all  have  slept, 
Pans  Cornet's  blowne,  and  the  great  Shetpsbears  kept. 

(73-74)  and  (83-84)  These  four  linei  are  not  in  Harl.  MS.  3357. 

(82)  Altxis]  Palsemons  Harl.  MS. 

(83)  against  '52.  '64,  '68. 
(85)  dead:]  lead:  '38. 

(92)  high  you  home.     '43,  '52. 
(94)  blowen  '43,  '52. 


THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

An  Eglogue  to  M1  lohnson. 
Tityrus 


v: 


NDER  this  beech  why  sits't  them  here 

so  sad 

Son  Damon,  that  wast  erst  a  joviall  lad  ? 
These  groves  were  wont  to  Eccho  with  the  sound 
Of  thy  shrill  reed,  while  every  Nymph  danc'd 

round. 

Rowse  up  thy  soule,  Parnassus  mount  stands 
high,  $ 

And  must  be  climb'd  with  painefull  industrie. 
Damon.       You  Father  on  his  forked  top  sit  still, 
And  see  us  panting  up  so  steepe  a  hill; 
But  I  have  broke  my  reed,  and  deeply  swore 
Never  with  wax,  never  to  joynt  it  more.       10 
Tit.       Fond  boy  'twas  rashly  done;    I  meant  to 

thee, 

Of  all  the  sons  I  have,  by  legacie 
To  have  bequeath'd  my  pipe,  thee,  thee  of  all, 
I  meant  it  should  her  second  Master  call. 
Dam.      And   doe  you  thinke  I   durst   presume  to 
play  15 

Where  Tityrus  had  worne  his  lip  away! 
Live  long  thy  selfe  to  tune  it;   'tis  from  thee. 
It  has  not  from  it  self  such  Harmony, 
But  if  we  ever  such  disaster  have 
As  to  compose  our  Tytirus  in  his  grave;      20 
Yonder  upon  yon  aged  Oak,  that  now 
Old  trophies  beares  on  every  sacred  bow, 

(1)  this]  his  '38.  (13)  pipe:     "68. 

(2)  a]  om.    '51.  (22)  bears,  on  every  sacred  bow  '40. 


POEMS  157 

We'le  hang  it  up  a  relique,  we  will  doe  it, 
And  learned  swains  shall  pay  devotion  to  it. 
Tyt.      Canst  thou  farewell  unto  the  Muses  bid  ?     25 
Then  bees  shall  loath  the  Thyme,  the  new 

wean'd  Kid 
Browze  on  the  buds  no  more;   the  teeming 

ewes 

Henceforth  the  tender  sallows  shall  refuse. 
Dam.       I  by  those  Ladies  now  do  nothing  set; 

Let  'em  for  me  some  other  servant  get:       30 
They  shall  no  more  be  Mistresses  of  mine, 
No,  though  my  pipe  had  hope  to  equall  thine. 
Thine  which  the  floods  have  stopt  their  course 

to  hear; 

To  which  the  spotted  Linx  hath  lent  an  eare. 
Which  while  the  severall  Ecchoes  would 

repeat,  35 

The  Musick  has  been  sweet,  the  Art  so  great 
That  Pan  himself  amaz'd  at  thy  deep  aires, 
Sent  thee  of  his  own  bowl  to  drown  thy 

cares. 

Of  all  the  Gods  Pan  doth  the  Pipe  respect, 
The  rest  unlearned  pleasures  more  affect.       40 
Pan  can  distinguish  what  thy  Raptures  be 
From  Bavins  loose  lascivious  Minstralsie, 
Or  Mcevius  windy  Bagpipe,  Mcevius,  he 
Whose  wit  is  but  a  Tavern  Tympanic. 
If  ever  I  flock  of  my  own  doe  feed,  45 

My  fattest  Lambs  shall  on  his  Altar  bleed. 
Tyt.      Two   Altars   I   will   build    him,   and    each 

yeare 
Will  sacrifice  two  wel-fed  Bullocks  there. 

(28)  fallows  '52. 


158  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Two  that  have  horns;  that  while  they  butting 

stand 
Strike  from  their  feet  a  cloud  of  numerous 

sand.  50 

But  what   can  make   thee  leave  the  Muses 

man, 

That  such  a  Patron  hast  as  mighty  Pan? 
Whence  is  thy  fury?     Did  the  partiall  eare 
Of  the  rude  Vulgar,  when  they  late  did  heare 
jEgon,  and  thee  contend  which  best  should 

play,  55 

Him  Victour  deem,  and  give  thy  kid  away? 
Does  Amarillis  cause  this  high  despaire? 
Or  Galatea's  coynesse  breed  thy  care? 
Dam.      Neither  of  these,  the  Vulgar  I  contemn; 

Thy    pipe    not    alwaies    Tytirus    wins    with 

them :  60 

And  as  for  Love,  in  sooth  I  doe  not  know 
Whether  he  wears  a  bow,  and  shafts  or  no. 
Or  did  I,  I  a  way  could  quickly  find, 
To  win  the  beauteous  Galatea's  mind, 
Or  Amarillis:    I  to  both  could  send  65 

Apples  that  with  Hesperian  fruit  contend: 
And  on  occasion  could  have  quickly  guest 
Where  two  fayr  ring-doves  built  their  amorous 

nest. 

Tyt.       If  none  of  these,  my  Damon  then  aread  69 
What    other    cause    can    so    much    passion 

breed ! 

Dam.       Father  I  will,  in  those  indulgent  ears 
I  dare  unload  the  burden  of  my  fears. 

(49)  horns,  '40,  ff.  (59)  these;     '68. 

(S3)  thy]  this  '43,  ff.  (68)  fairing-doves  '68. 


POEMS  159 

The  Reapers  that  with  whetted  siccles  stand, 
Gathering  the  falling  ears  i'th'  other  hand; 
Though  they  endure  the  scorching  summers 

heat,  75 

Have  yet  some  wages  to  allay  their  sweat: 
The  Lopper  that  doth  fell  the  sturdy  Oak 
Labours,  yet  has  good  pay  for  every  stroke. 
The  Plowman  is  rewarded:    only  we 
That  sing,  are  paid  with  our  own  melody.  80 
Rich  churls  have   learn't   to   praise    us,  and 

admire, 
But  have  not  learn't  to  think  us  worth  the 

hire. 

So  toyling  Ants  perchance  delight  to  hear 
The  summer  musique  of  the  Grassopper, 
But  after  rather  let  him  starve  with  pain,     85 
Then  spare  him  from  their  store  one  single 

grain. 

As  when  great  lunos  beauteous  Bird  displaies 
Her  starry  tail,  the  boyes  doe  run  and  gaze 
At  her  proud  train;    so  look  they  now  adaies 
On  Poets;  and  doe  think  if  they  but  praise,  90 
Or  pardon  what  we  sing,  enough  they  doe: 
I,  and  'tis  well  if  they  doe  so  much  too. 
My  rage  is  swel'd  so  high  I  cannot  speak  it, 
Had   I   Pans   pipe,   or  thine   I   now  should 

break  it! 
Tit.       Let  moles  delight  in  Earth;   Swine  dunghils 

rake;  95 

Crows  prey  on  Carrion;  Frogs  a  pleasure  take 
In  slimy  pools;  And  Niggards  wealth  admire; 

(74)  'ith'  '38,  '40,  '43,  '52.  (82)  learnt  '52,  ff. 

(81)  learnt  '43,  ff-  (83)  delight]  are  like  '64,  '68. 


160  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

But  we,  whose  souls  are  made  of  purer  fire, 
Have  other  aimes:    Who  songs  for  gain  hath 

made, 

Has  of  a  liberall  Science  fram'd  a  Trade.    100 
Hark  how  the  Nightingale  in  yonder  tree, 
Hid  in  the  boughes,  warbles  melodiously 
Her  various  musique  forth,  while  the  whole 

Quire 

Of  other  birds,  flock  around,  and  all  admire! 
But   who   rewards    her?    will    the    ravenous 

Kite  105 

Part  with  her  prey,  to  pay  for  her  delight? 
Or  will  the  foolish,  painted  pratling  lay 
Now  turn'd  a  hearer,  to  requite  her  play 
Lend  her  a  s'traw?  or  any  of  the  rest 
Fetch    her    a    feather   when  she   builds    her 

nest?  no 

Yet  sings  she  ne're  the  lesse,  till  every  den 
Doe   catch   at  her  last  notes:   And  shall   I 

then 

His  fortunes  Damon  'bove  my  own  commend, 
Who  can  more  cheese  into  the  market  send? 
Clowns  for  posterity  may  cark  and  care,  115 
That  cannot  out-live  death  but  in  an  Heire: 
By  more  then  wealth  we  propagate  our  Names, 
That  trust  not  to  successions,  but  our  Fames. 
Let  hide-bound  churls  yoak  the  laborious  Oxe, 
Milk  hundred  goats,  and  shear  a  thousand 

flocks;  120 

Plant  gainful  Orchards,  and  in  silver  shine; 
Thou  of  all  fruits  should'st  only  prune  the 
Vine: 

(99)  Who]  whose  '52.  (118)  Flames  '4.0. 


POEMS  l6l 

Whose   fruit   being   tasted,   might  erect   thy 

brain 
To    reach    some    ravishing,    high,    and    lofty 

strain; 

The  double  birth  of  Bacchus  to  expresse,    125 
First  in  the  grape,  the  second  in  the  presse. 
And  therefore  tell  me  boy,  what  is't  can  move 
Thy  mind,  once  fixed  on  the  Muses  Love? 
Dam.       When    I    contented   liv'd    by   Cham's    fair 

streams, 

Without  desire  to  see  the  prouder  Thames,  130 
I  had  no  flock  to  care  for,  but  could  sit 
Vnder  a  willow  covert,   and   repeat 
Those  deep  and  learned  layes,  on  every  part 
Grounded  on  judgment,  subtilty,  and  Art, 
That  the  great  Tutour  to  the  greatest  King, 
The  shepheard  of  Stagira,  us'd  to  sing:       136 
The  shepheard  of  Stagira,  that  unfolds 
All  natures  closet,  shows  what  e're  it  holds; 
The  matter,  form,  sense,  motion,  place,  and 
measure  139 

Of  every  thing  contain'd  in  her  vast  treasure. 
How  Elements  doe  change;  What  is  the  cause 
Of  Generation;    what  the  Rule  and  Laws 
The  Orbs  doe  move  by;  Censures  every  starre, 
Why  this  is  fixt,  and  that  irregular; 
Knows  all  the  Heavens,  as   if  he  had  been 
there,  145 

And  help't  each  Angell  turn  about  her  spheare. 
The  thirsty  pilgrim  travelling  by  land, 
When  the  feirce  Dog-starre  doth  the  day  com- 
mand, 

(128)  once]  being  '68.  (134)  iubtil'ty  '38. 


1 62  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Half   choak't    with    dust,    parch't    with    the 

soultry  heat; 
Tir'd  with   his  journey,   and   o'recome  with 

sweat,  150 

Finding  a  gentle  spring,  at  her  cool  brink 
Doth   not  with  more  delight  sit  down   and 

drink, 

Then  I  record  his  songs:   we  see  a  cloud, 
And  fearing  to  be  wet,  doe  run  and  shroud 
Vnder  a  bush;  when  he  would  sit  and  tell  155 
The  cause  that  made  her  mystic  wombe  to 

swell; 

Why  it  sometimes  in  drops  of  rain  doth  flow, 
Sometimes  dissolves  her  self  in  flakes  of  snow: 
Nor  gaz'd  he  at  a  Comet,  but  would  frame 
A  reason  why  it  wore  a  beard  of  flame.         160 
Ah  Tytirus,  I  would  with  all  my  heart, 
Even  with  the  best  of  my  carv'd  mazers  part, 
To  hear  him  as  he  us'd  divinely  shew, 
What  'tis  that  paints  the  divers-colour'd  bow: 
Whence  Thunders  are  discharg'd,  whence  the 

winds    stray,  165 

What   foot   through   heaven   hath   worn   the 

milky  way! 

And  yet  I  let  this  true  delight  alone, 
Call'd  thence  to  keep  the  flock  of  Corydon. 
Ah  woe  is  me,  anothers  flock  to  keep;  169 
The  care  is  mine,  the  master  shears  the  sheep! 
A  flock  it  was  that  would  not  keep  together; 
A  flock  that  had  no  fleece,  when  it  came 

hither. 

(iS3)  we  see]  see  '64  seeing  '68.  (166)  ways  '43,  wayes  '52. 

(161)  withall  '38, '40,  '43. 


POEMS  163 

Nor  would  it  learn  to  listen  to  my  layes, 
For  'twas  a  flock  made  up  of  severall  strayes; 
And  now  I  would  return  to  Cham,  I  hear    175 
A  desolation  frights  the  Muses  there! 
With  rustique  swains  I  mean  to  spend  my 

time 

Teach  me  there  father  to  preserve  my  rime. 
Tyt.      To  morrow  morning  I  will  counsel  thee, 
Meet   me   at   Faunus   Beech;    for   now   you 
see  180 

How  larger  shadows  from  the  mountains  fall, 
And  Corydon  doth  Damon,  Damon,  call. 
Damon,  'tis  time  my  flock  were  in  the  fold, 
More  then  high  time;  did  you  not  erst  behold 
How  Hesperus  above  yon  clouds  appear'd,  185 
Hesperus  leading  forth  his  beauteous  heard? 

(178)  rime.]  time.     '68. 


A  Pastorall  Courtship. 

BEhold  these  woods,  and  mark  my  Sweet 
How  all  the  boughes  together  meet! 
The  Cedar  his  faire  arms  displayes, 
And  mixes  branches  with  the  Bayes. 
The  lofty  Pine  deignes  to  descend,  5 

And  sturdy  Oaks  doe  gently  bend. 
One  with  another  subt'ly  weaves 
Into  one  loom  their  various  leaves; 
As  all  ambitious  were  to  be 
Mine  and  my  Phyllis  canopie!  10 

(2)  the]  these  '52. 


164  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Let's  enter,  and  discourse  our  Loves; 
These  are,  my  Dear,  no  tell-tale  groves! 
There  dwell  no  Pyes,  nor  Parrats  there, 
To  prate  again  the  words  they  heare, 
Nor  babling  Eccho,  that  will  tell  15 

The  neighbouring  hills  one  syllable. 

Being  enter' d  let's  together  lye, 
Twin'd  like  the  Zodiaks  Gemini! 
How  soon  the  flowers  doe  sweeter  smell? 
And  all  with  emulation  swell,  20 

To  be  thy  pillow?    These  for  thee 
Were  meant  a  bed,  and  thou  for  me; 
And  I  may  with  as  just  esteem 
Presse  thee,  as  thou  maist  lye  on  them. 
And  why  so  coy?    What  dost  thou  feare?  25 

There  lurks  no  speckled  Serpent  here. 
No  Venomous  snake  makes  this  his  rode, 
No  Canker,  nor  the  loathsome  toad. 
And  yon  poor  spider  on  the  tree, 
Thy  spinster  will,  no  poisner  be.  30 

There  is  no  Frog  to  leap,  and  fright 
Thee  from  my  arms,  and  break  delight; 
Nor  snail  that  o're  thy  coat  shall  trace, 
And  leave  behind  a  slimy  lace. 

This  is  the  hallowed  shrine  of  Love,  35 

No  wasp  nor  hornet  haunts  this  grove, 
Nor  pismire  to  make  pimples  rise, 
Vpon  thy  smooth  and  ivory  thighes. 
No  danger  in  these  shades  doth  lye, 
Nothing  that  wears  a  sting,  but  I:  40 

And  in  it  doth  no  venome  dwell, 
Although  perchance  it  make  thee  swell. 

(i  i )  lets '40.  (29)  yon]  you '68.  (30)  poisoner  '40,  ff. 


POEMS  165 

Being  set,  let's  sport  a  while,  my  Fair, 
I  will  tye  Love  knots  in  thy  haire. 
See  Zephyrus  through  the  leaves  doth  stray,  45 

And  has  free  liberty  to  play; 
And  braids  thy  locks:   And  shall  I  find 
Lesse  favour  then  a  saucy  wind? 
Now  let  me  sit,  and  fix  my  eyes, 
On  thee  that  art  my  Paradise.  50 

Thou  art  my  all;   the  spring  remains 
In  the  fair  violets  of  thy  veins: 
And  that  it  is  a  summers  day, 
Ripe  Cherries  in  thy  lips  display. 

And  when  for  Autumn  I  would  seek,  55 

'Tis  in  the  Apples  of  thy  cheek. 
But  that  which  only  moves  my  smart, 
Is  to  see  winter  in  thy  heart. 
Strange,  when  at  once  in  one  appear 
All  the  four  seasons  of  the  year!  60 

I'le  clasp  that  neck  where  should  be  set 
A  rich  and  Orient  Carkanet: 
But  swains  are  poor,  admit  of  then 
More  naturall  chains,  the  arms  of  men. 
Come  let  me  touch  those  brests,  that  swell  65 

Like  two  faire  mountains,  and  may  well 
Be  stil'd  the  Alpes,  but  that  I  feare 
The  snow  has  lesse  of  whitenesse  there. 
But  stay  (my  Love)  a  fault  I  spy, 
Why  are  these  two  fair  fountains  dry?  70 

Which  if  they  run,  no  Muse  would  please 
To  tast  of  any  spring  but  these. 
And  Ganymed  employ'd  should  bee 
To  fetch  his  love  Nectar  from  thee. 

(70)  ?]  ,  '38. 


1 66  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Thou  shalt  be  Nurse  fair  Venus  swears  75 

To  the  Next  Cupid  that  she  bears. 

Were  it  not  then  discreetly  done 

To  ope  one  spring  to  let  two  runne? 

Fy,  fy,  this  Belly,  Beauty's  mint, 

Blushes  to  see  no  coyn  stampt  in't.  80 

Employ  it  then,  for  though  it  be 

Our  wealth,  it  is  your  royaltie; 

And  beauty  will  have  currant  grace 

That  bears  the  Image  of  your  face. 

How  to  the  touch  the  Ivory  thighes  85 

Veil  gently,  and  again  doe  rise, 

As  pliable  to  impression, 

As  Virgins  waxe,  or  Parian  stone 

Dissolv'd  to  softnesse,  plump  and  full, 

More  white  and  soft  then  Cotsall  wooll;  90 

Or  Gotten  from  the  Indian  Tree, 

Or  pretty  silkworms  huswifrie. 

These  on  two  marble  pillars  rais'd 

Make  me  in  doubt  which  should  be  praisd; 

They,  or  their  Columnes  must;    but  when  95 

I  view  those  feet  which  I  have  seen 

So  nimbly  trip  it  o're  the  Lawns 

That  all  the  Satyrs  and  the  fawns 

Have  stood  amaz'd,  when  they  would  passe 

Over  the  leyes,  and  not  a  grasse  too 

Would  feel  the  weight,  nor  rush,  nor  bent 

Drooping  betray  which  way  you  went. 

O  then  I  felt  my  hot  desires 

Burn  more,  and  flame  with  double  fires. 

(82)  your]  our  '68.  (loo)  layes  '40,  S. 

(88)  or]  om.  '68.  (101)  rash  '68. 

(89)  softnesse;   '40,  ff.  doz)  .]  ,  '40,  '43,  '52,  '64,  •';  '68. 
(92)  huswiferie  '40,  ff.  (104)  Burnt  '68.    ,]  ;  '38. 


POEMS  167 

Come  let  those  thighes,  those  legs,  those  feet,          105 

With  mine  in  thousand  windings  meet, 

And  woven  in  more  subtle  twines 

Then  woodbine,  Ivy,  or  the  vines. 

For  when  Love  sees  us  circling  thus 

He'le  like  no  Arbour  more  then  us.  no 

Now  let  us  kisse,  would  you  be  gone? 

Manners  at  least  allows  me  one. 

Blush  you  at  this,  pretty  one  stay, 

And  I  will  take  that  kisse  away. 

Thus  with  a  second,  and  that  too  115 

A  third  wipes  off;    so  will  we  goe 

To  numbers  that  the  Starrs  out  run, 

And  all  the  Atoms  in  the  Sun. 

For  though  we  kisse  till  Pbcebus  ray 

Sink  in  the  seas,  and  kissing  stay  120 

Till  his  bright  beams  return  again, 

There  can  of  all  but  one  remain: 

And  if  for  one  good  manners  call, 

In  one  good  manners  grant  me  all. 

Are  kisses  all?  they  but  forerun  125 

Another  duty  to  be  done. 
What  would  you  of  that  minstrell  say 
That  tunes  his  pipes  and  will  not  play? 
Say  what  are  blossoms  in  their  prime, 
That  ripen  not  in  harvest  time?  130 

Or  what  are  buds  that  ne're  disclose 
The  long'd  for  sweetnesse  of  the  rose? 
So  kisses  to  a  Lover's  guest 
Are  invitations  not  the  feast. 

See  everything  that  we  espy  135 

Is  fruitfull,  saving  you  and  I: 

(114)  .]  ;  '64,  '68.  (124)  one,  good  manners,  '40,  ff. 

(116)  of  '38,  '40,  '64     ;]  ,  '38.  (125)  kisses?  all  they  '64,  '68. 


1 68  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Veiw  all  the  feilds,  survey  the  bowers, 

The  buds,  the  blossoms  and  the  flowers; 

And  say  if  they  so  rich  could  be 

In  barren  base  Virginitie.  140 

Earth's  not  so  coy  as  you  are  now, 

But  willingly  admits  the  plow. 

For  how  had  man  or  beast  been  fed, 

If  she  had  kept  her  maiden  head? 

Ccelia  once  coy  as  are  the  rest  145 

Hangs  now  a  babe  on  either  brest; 

And  Chloris  since  a  man  she  took, 

Has  lesse  of  greennesse  in  her  look. 

Our  ewes  have  ean'd,  and  every  damme 

Gives  suck  unto  her  tender  Lambe.  150 

As  by  these  groves  we  walk'd  along, 

Some  Birds  were  feeding  of  their  young, 

Some  on  their  egges  did  brooding  sit, 

Sad  that  they  had  not  hatch'd  them  yet. 

Those  that  were  slower  then  the  rest,  155 

Were  busy  building  of  their  nest. 

You  will  not  only  pay  the  fine, 

You  vow'd  and  ow'd  to  Valentine. 

As  you  were  angling  in  the  brook 

With  silken  line  and  silver  hook,  160 

Through  Christall  streams  you  might  descry 

How  vast  and  numberlesse  a  fry 

The  fish  had  spawn'd,  that  all  along 

The  banks  were  crowded  with  the  throng. 

And  shall  fair  Venus  more  command  165 

By  water  then  she  does  by  land? 

The  Phoenix  chast,  yet  when  she  dyes, 

Her  self  with  her  own  ashes  lyes. 

(156)  their]  the  '43,  '52,  '68.  (IS7)  you  only  will  not  pay  '43,  ff. 


POEMS  169 

But  let  thy  Love  more  wisely  thrive 

To  doe  the  act  while  th'art  alive.  170 

'Tis  time  we  left  our  childish  Love 

That  trades  for  toyes,  and  now  approve 

Our  abler  skill;    they  are  not  wise 

Look  Babies  only  in  the  eyes. 

That  smooth  red  smile  shews  what  you  meant,        i?5 

And  modest  silence  gives  consent. 

That  which  we  now  prepare,  will  bee 

Best  done  in  silent  secresie. 

Come  doe  not  weep,  what  is't  you  feare? 

Least  some  should  know  what  we  did  here.  180 

See  not  a  flowre  you  prest  is  dead, 

But  re-erects  his  bended  head; 

That  who  soe're  shall  passe  this  way 

Knows  not  by  these  where  Phyllis  lay. 

And  in  your  forehead  there  is  none  185 

Can  read  the  act  that  we  have  done. 

Phyllis. 

Poore  credulous  and  simple  maid! 
By  what  strange  wiles  art  thou  betraid! 
A  treasure  thou  hast  lost  to  day 
For  which  thou  canst  no  ransome  pay.  190 

How  black  art  thou  transform'd  with  sin! 
How  strange  a  guilt  gnaws  me  within! 
Greif  will  convert  this  red  to  pale; 
When  every  Wake,  and  whitsund-ale 
Shall  talk  my  shame;    break,  break  sad  heart          195 
There  is  no  Medicine  for  my  smart, 

No  hearb  nor  balm  can  cure  my  sorrow, 

Vnlesse  you  meet  again  to  morrow. 

(175)  smooth'red  '43         smoother' d  *J2. 

( 180)  .]  ?  '68.  (192)  !]  ?  '43,  'St. 


170  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Fpon  a  very  deformed  Gentlewoman,  but  of  a 
voice  incomparably  sweet. 

Ichanc'd  sweet  Lesbia's  voice  to  heare, 
O  that  the  pleasure  of  the  eare 
Contented  had  the  appetite; 
But  I  must  satisfy  the  sight; 
Where  such  a  face  I  chanc'd  to  see  5 

From  which  good  Lord  deliver  me. 
I'st  not  prophane  if  I  should  tell 
I  thought  her  one  of  those  that  fell 
With  Lucifers  Apostate  traine 
Yet  did  her  Angels  voice  retaine?  10 

A  cherubin  her  notes  descry'd, 
A  Divell  every  where  beside. 
Aske  the  dark  woods,  and  they'le  confesse 
None  did  such  Harmony  expresse 
In  all  their  bowres  from  May  to  lune,  15 

Yet  nere  was  face  so  out  of  tune. 
Her  Virginall  teeth  false  time  did  keep, 
Her  wrinkled  forhead  went  too  deep. 
Lower  then  Gammut  sunke  her  eyes, 
'Bove  Ela  though  her  nose  did  rise.  20 

Tie  trust  Musitians  now  that  tell 
Best  musique  doth  in  discords  dwell. 
Her  ayres  entic'd  the  gentle  quire 
Of  Birds  to  come,  who  all  admire, 
And  would  with  pleasure  longer  stay,  25 

But  that  her  looks  frights  them  away. 
Which  for  a  good  Priapus  goes 
And  well  may  serve  to  scarre  the  crowes. 

incomparable  '43,  S.  (25)  8tr»y  '68. 

(21)  tell]  rest  '43,  '52. 


POEMS  171 

Her  voice  might  tempt  th'  immortall  race, 

But  let  her  only  shew  her  face,  30 

And  soone  shee  might  extinguish  thus 

The  lusting  of  an  Incubus. 

So  have  I  scene  a  lute  ore  worne, 

Old  and  rotten,  patcht  and  torne, 

So  ravish  with  a  sound,  and  bring  35 

A  close  so  sweet  to  every  string, 

As  would  strike  wonder  in  our  eares, 

And  work  an  envy  in  the  Spheares. 

Say  monster  strange,  what  maist  thou  be? 

Whence  shall  I  fetch  thy  Pedigree?  40 

What  but  a  Panther  could  beget 

A  beast  so  foule,  a  breath  so  sweet? 

Or  thou  of  Syrens  issue  art, 

If  they  be  fish  the  upper  part. 

Or  else  blind  Homer  was  not  mad  45 

Then  when  he  sung  Vlysses  had 

So  strange  a  guift  from  JEolus, 

Who  odour-breathing  Zephyrus 

In  severall  bottles  did  inclose, 

For  certain  thou  art  one  of  those.  50 

Thy  lookes,  where  other  women  place 

Their  chiefest  Pride,  is  thy  disgrace. 

The  tongue,  a  part  which  us'd  to  be 

Worst  in  thy  Sexe,  is  best  in  thee. 

Were  I  but  now  to  choose  my  deare  55 

Not  by  my  eye,  but  by  my  eare, 

Here  would  I  dote;    how  shall  I  wooe 

Thy  voice,  and  not  thy  body  too? 

Then  all  the  brood  I  get  of  thee, 

Would  Nightingalls,  and  Cygnets  be:  60 


172  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Cygnets  betimes  their  throats  to  trye, 

Borne  with  more  Musique  then  they  dye. 

Say  Lesbia,  say,  what  God  will  blesse 

Our  Loves  with  so  much  happinesse? 

Some  women  are  all  tongue,  but  6  65 

Why  art  not  thou  my  Lesbia  so? 

Thy  looks  doe  speak  thee  witch;   one  spell 

To  make  thee  but  invisible, 

Or  dye;    resigne  thy  selfe  to  death, 

And  I  will  catch  thy  latest  breath;  70 

But  that  the  nose  will  scarce  I  feare 

Finde  it  so  sweet,  as  did  the  eare. 

Or  if  thou  wouldst  not  have  me  coy, 

As  was  the  selfe-inamour'd  Boy, 

Turne  only  Voice,  an  Eccho  prove,  75 

Here,  here,  by  heav'n,  I  fixe  my  Love: 

If  not,  you  Gods,  to  ease  my  mind, 

Or  make  her  dumbe,  or  strike  me  blind; 

For  griefe,  and  anger  in  me  rise, 

Whil'st  shee  hath  tongue,  or  I  have  eyes.  80 

(62)  they]  the  '43,  '5*.  (69)  die!  and  resign  '68. 

(66)  ?]  !  '38.  (76)  Tie  fit  '64,  '68. 

(67)  looks  doe]  look  doth  '68. 


The  milk-maids  Epithalamium. 

IOy  to  the  Bridegroome  and  the  Bride 
That  lye  by  one  anothers  side! 
O  fie  upon  the  Virgin  Bedds, 
No  losse  is  gain  but  Maiden  heads. 
Love  quickly  send  the  time  may  be 
When  I  shall  deal  my  Rosemary! 

(4)  gain'd  '68. 


POEMS  173 

I  long  to  simper  at  a  feast, 

To  dance,  and  kisse,  and  doe  the  rest. 

When  I  shall  wed,  and  Bedded  be 

0  then  the  qualme  comes  over  me,  10 
And  tells  the  sweetnesse  of  a  Theame 

That  I  ne're  knew  but  in  a  dreame. 

You  Ladies  have  the  blessed  nights, 

1  pine  in  hope  of  such  delights. 

And  silly  Dam'sell  only  can  15 

Milk  the  cowes  teats  and  think  on  man: 
And  sigh  and  wish  to  tast  and  prove 
The  wholesome  Sillibub  of  Love. 

Make  hast,  at  once  twin-Brothers  beare; 

And  leave  new  matter  for  a  starre.  20 

Woemen  and  ships  are  never  shown 

So  fair  as  when  their  sayles  be  blown. 

Then  when  the  Midwife  hears  your  moane, 

I'le  sigh  for  grief  that  I  have  none. 

And  you,  deare  Knight,  whose  every  kisse        25 

Reapes  the  full  crop  of  Cupids  blisse, 

Now  you  have  found,  confesse  and  tell 

That  single  sheets  doe  make  up  hell. 

And  then  so  charitable  be 

To  get  a  man  to  pitty  me.  30 

(15)  Damsell  '40,  if. 
(22)  be]  are  '40,  ff. 


174  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

An  Eglogue  on  the  noble  Assemblies  revived  on 
Cotswold  Hills,  by  M.  Robert  Dover. 


LiOtien,  laenot. 

VV! 


Collen,  Thenot. 

Hat  Clod-pates,    Thenot,  are   our 

Brittish  swains? 
Coll.      T  T      How  lubber-like  they  loll  upon  the 

plains, 

No  life,  no  spirit  in  'urn!  every  Clown 
Soone  as  he  layes  his  Hook  and  Tarbox  down, 
That  ought  to  take  his  Reed,  and  chant  his  layes, 
Or  nimbly  run  the  windings  of  the  Maze,         6 
Now  gets  a  bush  to  roam  himselfe,  and  sleepe; 
Tis  hard  to  know  the  shepheard  from  the  sheepe. 
And  yet  me  thinks  our  English  pastures  be 
As  flowery  as  the  Lawnes  of  Arcadie;  10 

Our  Virgins  blith  as  theirs,  nor  can  proud  Greece 
Boast  purer  ayre,  nor  sheer  a  finer  fleece. 
The.       Yet  view  their  out-side,  Collen,  you  would  say 
They  have  as  much  brawn  in  their  necks  as  they 
Fair  Tempe  braggs  of;  lusty  armes  that  swell    15 
With  able  sinews,  and  might  hurle  as  well 
The  weightie  sledge;    their  leggs,  and  thighs  of 

bone, 

Great  as  Colossus,  yet  their  strength  is  gone. 
They  look  like  yonder  man  of  wood,  that  stands 
To  bound  the  limits  of  the  Parish  lands.  20 

AN  EGLOGVE  ON  THE  PALILIA 
And  Noble  Assemblies  revived  on  Cotswold 
Hills,  by  Mr.  ROBERT  DOVER. 

COLLEN.      THENOT.         (Heading  in  A.  D.) 

(i)  Co//.]  om.  A.D.  ?]  ,  '38.                    (7)  room.  '43  ff. 

(a)    ,D  ?  '38.  (14)  they;  A.D.    they.  '52,  '68. 

(3)  'em;  '38,  ff.  (15)  ;]  om.  A.D.,  '52,  '68    ,  '43. 

(6)  winding '38.  (18)  strengths  are  A.D. 


POEMS  175 

Dost  them  ken,  Collen,  what  the  cause  might  be 
Of  such  a  dull  and  generall  Lethargic? 

Coll.       Swain,  with  their  sports  their  soules  were  ta'ne 

away. 

Till  then  they  all  were  active;    every  day 
They  exercised  to  weild  their  limbs,  that  now   25 
Are  numb'd  to  every  thing,  but  flail  and  plow. 
Early  in  May  up  got  the  jolly  rout 
Call'd  by  the  Lark,  and  spred  the  feilds  about: 
One  for  to  breath  himselfe,  would  coursing  be 
From  this  same  Beech,  to  yonder  Mulberie.     30 
A  second  leapt,  his  supple  nerves  to  try, 
A  third  was  practicing  his  melody. 
This  a  new  ligg  was  footing;   others  were 
Busied  at  wrastling,  or  to  throw  the  Barre: 
Ambitious  which  should  beare  the  bell  away,  35 
And  kisse  the  Nut-brown  Lady  of  the  May. 
This  stirr'd  'urn  up;    a  lolly  swain  was  he 
Whom  Peg,  and  Susan  after  Victory 
Crown'd  with  a  garland  they  had  made,  beset 
With  Daisies,  Pincks  and  many  a  Violet,          40 
Cowslip,  and  Gilliflower.     Rewards  though  small 
Encourage  vertue;    but  if  none  at  all 
Meet  her,  she  languisheth,  and  dyes,  as  now 
Where  worth's  deny'd  the  honour  of  a  bough. 
And,  Tbenot,  this  the  cause  I  read  to  be  45 

Of  such  a  dull  and  generall  Lethargic. 

The.       Ill  thrive  the  Lowt  that  did  their  mirth  gainsay, 
Wolves  haunt  his  flocks,  that  took  those  sports 


away 


(ij)  Swaine  !  A.D.  (37)  "urn]  'cm  '38,  ff.    he]  me  '43,  "52. 

(*4)  active,  '38,  ff.     every  day;  '64,  '68.  (40)  Dazies  A.D. 

(33)  ;]  ,  '38.  if.  (43)  dyes]  lyes  '64. 

(34)  wrestling  '38,  ff.  (48)  his]  these  '64,  '68    !]  .     A.D. 


176  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Coll.       Some  melancholy  swains  about  have  gone 

To  teach  all  Zeale,  their  own  complection:       50 
Choler  they  will  admit  sometimes  I  see 
But  Fleagme,  and  Sanguine  no  Religions  be. 
These  teach  that  Dauncing  is  a  lezabell; 
And  Barley-break,  the  ready  way  to  Hell. 
The  Morrice,  Idolls;   Whitsun'-ales  can  be        55 
But  prophane  Reliques  of  a  lubilee! 
These  in  a  Zeal,  t'expresse  how  much  they  doe 
The  Organs  hate,  have  silenc'd  Bag-pipes  too; 
And  harmlesse  May-poles,  all  are  rail'd  upon 
As  if  they  were  the  towers  of  Babilon.  60 

Some  think  not  fit  there  should  be  any  sport 
Fth  Country,  'tis  a  dish  proper  to  th'  Court. 
Mirth  not  becomes  'um,  let  the  sawcy  swain 
Eate  Beef,  and  Bacon,  and  goe  sweat  again. 
Besides,  what  sport  can  in  their  pastimes  be    65 
When  all  is  but  ridiculous  fopperie? 

Tbf.       Collen,  I  once  the  famous  Spain  did  see, 
A  nation  glorious  for  her  gravitie; 
Yet  there  an  hundred  Knights  on  warlike  steeds 
Did  skirmish  out  a  fight  arm'd  but  with  reeds; 
At  which  a  thousand  Ladies  eyes  did  gaze,      71 
Yet  'twas  no  better  then  our  Prison-base. 
What  is  the  Barriers  but  a  Courtly  way 
Of   our   more   down    right    sport,   the   Cudgell- 

play? 

Foot-ball  with  us  may  be  with  them  Baloone,   75 
As  they  at  Tilt,  so  we  at  Quintaine  runne. 

(50)  zeal  their  '38,  ff. 

(55)  Morrice  Idols,  '38,  '64,  '68         Morrice-Idols  '43,  '52. 

(62)  Country]  Citie,  A.D.   to  th']  to  'th  A.D.     to  t'h  '38. 

(63)  'em  '38,  ff.  (66)   ?]  .     A.D.  (72)  was  '38  'was  '40. 
(75)  Balcome  '43,  '52     Balcone  '68 


POEMS  177 

And  those  old  Pastimes  relish  best  with  me, 
That  have  least  Art,  and  most  simplicitie. 
Collen,  they  say  at  Court  there  is  an  Art 
To  dance  a  Ladies  honour  from  her  hart;         80 
Such  wiles  poor  shepheards  know  not,  all  their 

sence 

Is  dull  to  any  thing  but  Innocence. 
The  Country  Lasse,  although  her  dance  be  good, 
Stirs  not  anothers  Galliard  in  the  Blood. 
And  yet  their  Sports  by  some  controul'd  have 

been,  85 

Who  think  there  is  no  mirth  but  what  is  sin. 
O  might  I  but  their  harmlesse  Gambols  see 
Restor'd  unto  an  ancient  libertie, 
Where  spotlesse  dalliance  traces  o're  the  Plains, 
And  harmlesse   Nymphs  jet   it  with   harmlesse 

swains !  90 

To  see  an  age  againe  of  Innocent  Loves 
Twine  close    as   Vines,    yet   kisse    as   chast    as 

Doves, 
Me   thinks    I    could    the    Tbracian    Lyre    have 

strung, 

Or  tun'd  my  whistle  to  the  Mantuan  song. 
Coll.       Then   tune  thy  whistle   boy,   and   string  thy 

Lyre,  95 

That  age  is  come  againe,  thy  brave  desire 
Pan  hath  approv'd;  dauncing  shall  bee  this  yeare 
Holy,  as  is  the  motion  of  a  Spheare. 
The.       Collen,  with  sweeter  breath  Fame  never  blew 
Her  sacred  Trump,  if  this  good  newes  be  true!  100 
Coll.       Knowst  thou  not  Cotswold  hils? 


(87)  their]  there  '38,  '40,  see!  A.D. 
(98)  ,]  om.  '38 


178  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

The:  Through  all  the  land 

No   Finer  wooll   runnes   through   the    spinsters 

hand. 

But  silly  Collen,  ill  thou  dost  divine; 
Canst  thou  mistake  a  Bramble  for  a  Pine? 
Or  think  this  Bush  a  Cedar?  or  suppose          105 
Yon  Hamlet,   where   to   sleepe   each   shepheard 

goes 

In  circuit,  buildings,  people,  power  and  name 
Equalls  the  Bow  string' d  by  the  silver  Thame? 
As  well  thou  maist  their  sports  with  ours  com- 
pare, 

As  the  soft  wooll   of  Lambs,  with   the   Goates 
haire.  no 

Coll.       Last  evening  Lad,  I  met  a  noble  swaine, 

That  spurr'd  his  sprightfull  Palfrey  ore  the  plain, 
His  head  with  ribbands  crown'd,  and  deckt  as 

gay 

As  any  Lasse  upon  her  Bridall  day: 

I    thought     (what    easy    faiths    we    shepheards 

prove!)  115 

This,  not  the  Bull,  had  been  Euro-pas  Love! 
I  ask't  the  cause,  they  told  me  this  was  he 
Whom  this  daies  Triumph  crown'd  with  Victory. 
Many  brave  steeds  there  were,  some  you  should 

finde 

So  fleet  as  they  had  been  sonnes  of  the  winder  120 
Others  with  hoofs  so  swift,  beat  o're  the  race 
As  if  some  engine  shot  'urn  to  the  place. 
So  many  and  so  well  wing'd  Steeds  there  were, 
As  all  the  Brood  of  Pegasus  had  been  there. 

(106)  Yo'n  '38  young  '43,  '52,     goes?    AJ>. 

(118)  crownd  '38.  (122)  'em '38,  ff. 


POEMS  179 

Rider,  and  horse  could  not  distinguish'd  be,     125 
Both  seem'd  conjoyn'd  a  Centaure's  Progeny. 
A  numerous  troop  they  were,  yet  all  so  light 
Earth    never    groan'd,    nor    felt    'urn    in    their 

flight. 

Such  Royall  Pastimes  Cotswold  mountains  fill, 
When  gentle  swains  visit  her  glorious  hill:  130 
Where  with  such  packs  of  Hounds  they  hunting 

goe, 

As  Cyrus  never  woon'd  his  Bugle  to! 
Whose  noise  is  musicall;    and  with  full  cries 
Beats  o're  the  feilds,  and  Ecchoes  through  the 

skies. 

Orion  hearing  wish'd  to  leave  his  Spheare,       135 
And  call  his  Dogge  from  heaven,  to  sport  it  there. 
Watt  though  he  fled  for  life,  yet  joy'd  withall 
So  brave  a  dirge  sung  forth  his  funerall. 
Not  Syrens  sweetlier  rill,  Hares  as  they  flie 
Look  back,  as  glad  to  listen,  loth  to  die.  140 

The.       No  doubt  but  from  this  brave  Heroick  fire 
In  the  more  noble  hearts,  sparks  of  desire 
May   warme   the   colder    Boores,    and    emulous 

strife 

Give  the  old  Mirth  and  Innocence  a  new  life. 
When   thoughts   of  fame   their   quickned    souls 

shall  fill  145 

At  every  glaunce  that  shewes  'um  Cotswold  hill. 

Coll.      There  shepheard,  there,  the  solemn  games  be 

playd, 
Such  as  great  Theseus,  or  Alcides  made: 


(132)  ne're  did  winde  '38,  ff. 

(139)  Not]  Nor '68. 

(146)  'em  '38,  '40,  '43,  '64,  '68  them  '52. 


180  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Such  as  Apollo  wishes  he  had  scene, 
And  love  desires  had  his  invention  beene!       150 
The  Nemean,  and  the  Isthmian  pastimes  still 
Though  dead  in  Greece,  survive  on  Cotswold  hill. 

The.       Happy  oh  hill!  the  gentle  Graces  now 

Shall  trip  o're  Thine  and  leave  Citherons  brow: 
Parnassus  clift,  shall  sink  below  his  spring,       155 
And  every  Muse  shall  on  thy  frontlet  sing. 
The  Goddesses  againe  in  strife  shall  be, 
And  from  mount  Ida  make  appeale  to  thee; 
Olympus  pay  thee  homage  and  in  dread 
The  aged  Alpes  shall  bow  his  snowy  head;      160 
Flora  with  all  her  store  thy  Temples  Crowne, 
Whose  height  shall  reach  the  stars:  Gods  looking 

down 

Shall  blesse  the  Incense  that  thy  flowers  exhale 
And  make  thee  both  a  Mountain  and  a  Vale. 
How  many  Ladies  on  thy  top  shall  meet,         165 
And  presse  thy  tresses  with  their  od'rous  feet? 
Whose  eyes  when  wondring  men  see  from  a  farre, 
They'le  think  thee  Heaven  and  each  of  them  a 

starre. 

But  gentle  Collen  say  what  God  or  man 
Fame  we  for  this  great  worke,  Daphnis  or  Pan? 

Coll.       Daphnis  is  dead,  and  Pan  hath  broke  his  Reed, 
Tell  all  your  flocks  'tis  loviall  Dover's  deed. 
Behold  the  shepheards  in  their  ribbands  goe, 
And  shortly  all  the  Nymphs  shall  weare  'urn  too: 

(149-150)  The  order  of  these  lines  reversed  in  '64  and  '68. 
(153)  Oh  happy  hill!  '38. 
(155)  clift  shall  '38. 
(161)  storethy  '38. 

(168)  They'le  think  the  heaven  and  earth  of  them  a  starre.  A.D.     starre,  '38. 

(169)  Coll.     But  gentle  Collen  '38.  (172)  DOVERS  A.D. 
(171)  Co//.]     The.     '38.  (174)  'em  '38,  ff. 


POEMS  l8l 

Amaz'd  to  see  such  glory  met  together,  175 

Blesse   Dovers   pipe,    whose    Musick    call'd   'um 

hither. 

Sport  you  my  Rams  at  sound  of  Dovers  name; 
Big-bellied  ewes  make  hast  to  bring  a  Lambe 
For  Dovers  fold:    Goe  maids  and  Lillies  get 
To  make  him  up  a  glorious  Coronet.  180 

Swains  keep  his  holy-day  and  each  man  sweare 
To  Saint  him  in  the  Shepheards  Calendar. 

(176)  'em  '38,  '43,  '64,  '68     'm  '52. 

(176,  177,  179)  DOVERS  A.D. 

The  poem  is  signed  Thomas  Randall.     Cant,     in  A.D. 


The  Song  of  Orpheus. 

HAile  sacred  Deserts,  whom  kind  nature  made 
Only  to  shelter  with  a  loving  shade, 
The  now  neglected  Musique,  glad  to  see 
Lyons  afford  her  hospitality, 

And  Tigers  bid  her  welcome,  with  the  rest  5 

Of  savage  beasts  accept  her  for  a  guest, 
Since  Men  refuse  her,  and  scarce  daigne  an  eare 
To  her  high  notes;    or  if  they  please  to  heare, 
Tis  all;    amongst  my  Pupills,  you  may  see 
The  birds  that  learn'd  their  sweetest  laies  of  me;      10 
Those  that  chant  Carols  in  this  thanklesse  age 
To  pleasure  men,  rewarded  with  a  Cage. 


1 82  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


A  Maske  for  Lydia. 

SWeet  Lydia  take  this  maske,  and  shroud 
Thy  face  within  the  silken  cloud, 
And  veile  those  powerfull  Skies: 
For  he  whose  gazing  dares  so  high  Aspire, 

Makes  burning  glasses  of  his  eyes,  5 

And  sets  his  heart  on  fire. 

Vaile,  Lydia  vaile,  for  unto  mee 
There  is  no  basiliske  but  thee. 

Thy  very  lookes  doe  kill: 
Yet  in  those  lookes  so  fixt  is  my  delight,  10 

Poore  soule  (alas)  I  languish  still 
In  absence  of  thy  sight. 

Close  up  those  eyes,  or  we  shall  finde 
Too  great  a  lustre  strike  us  blinde! 

Or  if  a  Ray  so  good  15 

Ought  to  be  scene,  let  it  but  then  appeare 

When  Eagles  doe  produce  their  brood, 
To  try  their  young  ones  there. 

Or  if  thou  would'st  have  me  to  know 

How  great  a  brightnesse  thou  canst  shew,  20 

When  they  have  lost  the  Sun; 
Then  doe  thou  rise,  and  give  the  world  this  theme, 

Sol  from  th'  Hesperides  is  run, 
And  back  hath  whipt  his  teame. 

Yet  through  the  Goat  when  he  shall  stray,  25 

Thou  through  the  Crab  must  take  thy  way; 

(14)  strikes  '52    !]  :  '38.  (19)  you  would  '68.  (20)    ,]  ;  '38 


POEMS  183 

For  should  you  both  shine  bright 
In  the  same  Tropick,  we  poore  moles  should  get 

Not  so  much  comfort  by  the  light, 
As  torment  by  the  heat.  30 

Where's  Lydia  now?  where  shall  I  seeke 
Her  charming  lip,  her  tempting  cheeke 

That  my  affections  bow'd? 
So  dark  a  sable  hath  ecclipst  my  faire, 

That  I  can  gaze  upon  the  cloud,  35 

That  durst  not  see  the  Star. 

But  yet  me  thinkes  my  thoughts  begin 
To  say  there  lies  a  white  within, 

Though  black  her  pride  controule: 
And  what  care  I  how  black  a  face  I  see,  40 

So  there  be  whitenesse  in  the  soule, 
Still  such  an  Etbiop  be. 

(39)  controul  t  '52. 


A  Parley  with  bis  empty  Purse. 

PVrse,  who'l  not  know  you  have  a  Poets  been 
When  he  shall  look  and  find  no  gold  herein? 
What  respect  (think  you)  will  there  now  be  shown 
To  this  foule  nest,  when  all  the  birds  are  flowne? 
Vnnaturall  vacuum,  can  your  emptinesse  5 

Answer  to  some  slight  questions,  such  as  these? 
How  shall  my  debts  be  paid?  or  can  my  scores 
Be  cleer'd  with  verses  to  my  Creditors? 

(i)  who  I  not  '52,    Poets]  Poet  '52,  *68. 


184  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Hexameter's  no  sterling,  and  I  feare 

What  the  brain  coynes  goes  scarce  for  currant  there.  10 

Can  meeter  cancell  bonds?  is  here  a  time 

Ever  to  hope  to  wipe  out  chalke  with  rime? 

Or  if  I  now  were  hurrying  to  the  jaile 

Are  the  nine  Muses  held  sufficient  baile? 

Would  they  to  any  composition  come,  15 

If  we  should  morgage  our  Elisium, 

Tempe,  Parnassus,  and  the  golden  streames 

Of  Tagus,  and  Pactolus,  those  rich  dreames 

Of  active  fancy?     Can  our  Orpheus  move 

Those  rocks,  and  stones  with  his  best  straines  of  Love? 

Should  I   (like  Homer]  sing  in  lofty  tones  21 

To  them  Achilles,  and  his  Myrmidons; 

Hector,  and  Aiax  are  but  Sergeants  names, 

They  rellish  bay-salt,  'bove  the  Epigrams 

Of  the  most  season'd  braine,  nor  will  they  be  25 

Content  with  Ode,  or  paid  with  Elegy. 

Muse,  burn  thy  baies,  and  thy  fond  quill  resigne, 

One  crosse  of  theirs  is  worth  whole  books  of  mine. 

Of  all  the  treasure  which  the  Poets  hold 

There's  none  at  all  they  weigh,  except  our  gold;       30 

And  mine's  return'd  to  th'  Indies,  and  hath  swore 

Never  to  visit  this  cold  climate  more. 

Then  crack  your  strings  good  Purse,  for  you  need  none; 

Gape  on,  as  they  doe  to  be  paid,  gape  on. 

(22)  ;]  !  '43,  '52- 
(24)  above '68. 


POEMS  185 

Vpon  Love  fondly  refused  for  Conscience  sake. 

NAture,  Creations  law,  is  judg'd  by  sense, 
Not  by  the  Tyrant  conscience. 
Then  our  commission  gives  us  leave  to  doe 
What  youth  and  pleasure  prompts  us  to: 
For  we  must  question  else  heavens  great  decree,         5 

And  taxe  it  with  a  Treachery; 
If  things  made  sweet  to  tempt  our  appetite 

Should  with  a  guilt  stain  the  delight. 
Higher  powers  rule  us,  our  selves  can  nothing  doe; 

Who  made  us  love  made't  lawfull  too.  10 

It  was  not  love,  but  love  transform'd  to  vice 

Ravish'd  by  envious  Avarice, 
Made  women  first  impropriate;    all  were  free, 

Inclosures  mans  Inventions  be. 
F  th'  golden  age  no  action  could  be  found  15 

For  trespasse  on  my  neighbours  ground: 
'Twas  just  with  any  Fayre  to  mixe  our  blood; 

The  best  is  most  diffusive  good. 
She  that  confines  her  beams  to  one  mans  sight, 

Is  a  darke  Lanthorne  to  a  glorious  Light.  20 

Say,  does  the  Virgin-spring  lesse  chast  appear 

Cause  many  Thirsts  are  quenched  there? 
Or  have  you  not  with  the  same  odours  met 

When  more  have  smelt  your  violet? 
The  Phenix  is  not  angry  at  her  nest,  25 

Cause  her  perfumes  make  others  blest: 
Though  Incense  to  th'  eternal  Gods  be  meant, 

Yet  mortalls  Rivall  in  the  sent. 

(4)  too:  '68. 

(9)  us,]  om.  '68.    made'Uwfull  '43. 

(14)  mens  '40,  ff. 

(20)  dark-Lanthorn  '43,  glorious]  om.  '64,  "68. 


1 86  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Man  is  the  Lord  of  creatures,  yet  we  see 

That  all  his  vassals  loves  are  free;  30 

The  severe  wedlocks  fetters  doe  not  bind 

The  Pard's  inflam'd,  and  amorous  mind; 
But  that  he  may  be  like  a  Bridegroome  led 

Even  to  the  Roy  all  Lyons  bed. 
The  birds  may  for  a  yeare  their  loves  confine,  35 

But  make  new  choyce  each  Valentine. 
If  our  affections  then  more  servile  be 

Then  are  our  slaves,  where's  mans  soveraignty? 
Why  then  by  pleasing  more,  should  you  lesse  please, 

And  spare  the  sweets,  being  more  sweet  then  these? 
If  the  fresh  Trunk  have  sap  enough  to  give  41 

That  each  insertive  branch  may  live; 
The  Gardner  grafts  not  only  Apples  there, 

But  addes  the  Warden  and  the  Peare; 
The  Peach,  and  Apricock  together  grow,  45 

The  Cherry,  and  the  Damson  too. 
Till  he  hath  made  by  skilfull  husbandry 

An  intire  Orchard  of  one  Tree. 
So  least  our  Paradise  perfection  want, 

We  may  as  well  inoculate  as  plant.  50 

What's  Conscience  but  a  Beldams  midnight  theme? 

Or  nodding  nurses  idle  dreame? 
So  feign'd,  as  are  the  Goblins,  Elves,  and  Fairies 

To  watch  their  Orchards,  and  their  Dairies. 
For  who  can  tell  when  first  her  reigne  begun?  55 

I'  th'  state  of  innocence  was  none: 
And  since  large  conscience  (as  the  proverb  shewes) 

In  the  same  sense  with  bad  one  goes, 

(38)  our]  om.  '64,  '68. 
(40)  the]  om.    '64,  '68. 

(50)  may  inoculate  and  plant.     '64,  '68. 

(51)  Bedlams  '64,  '68. 


POEMS  187 

The  lesse  the  better  then,  whence  this  will  fall, 

*Tis  to  be  perfect  to  have  none  at  all.  60 

Suppose  it  be  a  vertue,  rich  and  pure, 

'Tis  not  for  Spring,  or  Summer  sure, 
Nor  yet  for  Autumne;   Love  must  have  his  prime, 

His  warmer  heats,  and  harvest  time. 
Till    we    have    flourish'd,    growne,    and    reap'd    our 
wishes,  65 

What  Conscience  dares  oppose  our  kisses? 
But  when  times  colder  hand  leads  us  neare  home, 

Then  let  that  winter-vertue  come: 
Frost  is  till  then  prodigious;   we  may  doe 

What  youth  and  pleasure  prompts  us  to.  70 

(60)  He's  perfect  that  hath  none  at  all.    '68. 
(68)  winter  vertue  '52. 


POEMS 
NOT  IN  THE  1638  EDITION 

BUT 

INCLUDED  IN  THE  1640 

AND    SUBSEQUENT    EDITIONS. 


On  Importunate  Dunnes. 

POx  take  you  all  from  you  my  sorrows  swell 
Your  Treacherous  Faith  makes  me  turn  Infidell. 
Pray  vex  me  not  for  Heavens  sake,  or  rather 
For  your  poor  Childrens  sake,  or  for  their  Father. 
You  trouble  me  in  vain,  what  'ere  you  say  5 

I  cannot,  will  not,  nay  I  ought  not  pay. 
You  are  Extortioners;    I  was  not  sent 
T*  encrease  your  sins,  but  make  you  all  repent 
That  'ere  you  trusted  me,  wee' re  even  here, 
I  bought  too  cheap,  because  you  sold  too  dear.        10 
Learn  Conscience  of  your  Wives,  for  they  I  swear 
For  the  most  part  Trade  in  the  better  Ware. 
Heark  Reader  if  thou  never  yet  hadst  one 
I'le  shew  the  torments  of  a  Cambridge  Dunne. 
He  railes  where  'ere  he  comes,  and  yet  can  say        15 
But  this,  that  Randolph  did  not  keep  his  day. 
What?  can  I  keep  the  Day,  or  stop  the  Sun 
From  setting,  or  the  Night  from  coming  on. 
Could  I  have  kept  dayes,  I  had  chang'd  the  doom 
Of  Times  and  Seasons,  that  had  never  come.  20 

These  evill  spirits  haunt  me  every  day, 
And  will  not  let  me  eat,  study,  or  pray. 
I  am  so  much  in  their  Books  that  'tis  known 
I  am  too  seldome  frequent  in  my  owne. 
What  damage  given  to  my  Doors  might  be  25 

If  Doors  might  Actions  have  of  Battery! 

(5)  ,]  ;  '64,  '68.  (26)  !]  ?  '68. 

(9)  i]  ;  '64,  '68.        wee're]  om.  '68. 
191 


192  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  when  they  finde  their  comming  to  no  end 

They  Dunne  by  proxie,  and  their  Letters  send, 

In  such  a  stile  as  I  could  never  find 

In  Tallies  long,  or  Seneca's  short  winde.  30 


Good  Master  Randolph,  Pardon  me,  I  pray 

If  I  remember  you  forget  your  day. 

I  kindly  dealt  with  you,  and  it  would  be 

Vnkind  in  you,  not  to  be  kinde  to  me. 

You  know,  Sir,  I  must  pay  for  what  I  have.        35 

My  Creditors  will  be  paid,  therefore  I  crave 

Pay  me  as  I  pay  them  Sir,  for  one  Brother 

Is  bound  in  Conscience  to  pay  another. 

Besides  my  Landlord  would  not  be  content, 

If  I  should  dodge  with  him  for's  quarters  rent.     40 

My  Wife  lies  in  too,  and  I  needs  must  pay 

The  Midwife,  least  the  fool  be  cast  away. 

And  'tis  a  second  charge  to  me  poor  man 

To  make  the  new  born  Babe  a  Christian. 

Besides  the  Churching  a  third  charge  will  be         45 

In  butter  d  H abb er dine  and  frummety. 

Thus  hoping  you  will  make  a  courteous  end, 

I  rest  (I  would  thou  would'st)  Your  loving  Friend. 

A.  B.  M.  H.  T.  B.  H.  L.  I.  O. 

I.  F.  M.  G.  P.  W.  Nay  I  know  50 

You  have  the  same  stile  all,  and  as  for  me 
Such  as  your  stile  is  shall  your  payment  be, 
Just  all  alike;    see,  what  a  cursed  spell 
Charmes  Devils  up,  to  make  my  Chamber  hell. 

(39)  ,]  •  '43-  (5*)  ,3  •  '43.  S.  (53)  ;]  ,  '40,  '43,  'S*- 


POEMS  193 

This  some  starv'd  Prentice  brings,  one  that  does  look 

With  a  face  blurr'd  more  then  his  Masters  book.      56 

One  that  in  any  chink  can  peeping  lye 

More  slender  then  the  yard  he  measures  by: 

When  my  poor  stomack  barks  for  meat  I  dare 

Scarce  humour  it,  they  make  me  live  by  air,  60 

As  the  Camelions  do;    and  if  none  pay 

Better  then  I  have  done,  even  so  may  they. 

When  I  would  go  to  Chappell,  they  betray 

My  zeal,  and  when  I  onely  meant  to  pray 

Unto  my  God,  faith  all  I  have  to  do  65 

Is  to  pray  them,  and  glad  theyl  hear  me  too. 

Nay  should  I  preach,  the  Raschals  are  so  vext, 

They'd  fee  a  beadle  to  arrest  my  Text; 

And  sue  if  such  a  sute  might  granted  be, 

My  Use  and  Doctrine  to  an  Outlary.  70 

This  stings,  yet  what  my  gall  most  works  upon 

Is  that  the  hope  of  my  revenge  is  gone. 

For  were  I  but  to  deal  with  such  as  those, 

That  know  the  danger  of  my  Uerse  or  Prose 

Ide  steep  my  Muse  in  Vinegar  and  Gall  75 

Till  the  fierce  scold  grew  sharp  and  hang'd  'um  all. 

But  those  I  am  to  deal  with  are  so  dull, 

(Though  got  by  Schollers)  he  that  is  most  full 

Of  Understanding  can  but  hither  come, 

Imprimis,  Item,  and  the  Totall  summe.  80 

I  do  not  wish  them  JEgypts  plagues,  but  even 

As  bad  as  they;    Fie  add  unto  them  seven. 

I  wish  not  Grashoppers,  Froggs,  and  Lice  come  down, 

But  clouds  of  Moths  in  every  shop  i'  th'  Town. 


(56)  his]  her  '52.  (71)  ,]  ;  '68. 

(58)  :],  '40  .  '68.  (74)  or]  and  '68. 


194  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Then  honest  Devill  to  their  Ink  convey  85 

Some  Aqua-fortis  that  may  eat  away 

Their  books.     To  adde  more  torments  to  their  lives, 

Heaven  I  beseech  thee,  send  'um  handsome  Wives. 

Such  as  will  pox  their  flesh,  till  sores  grow  in  't 

That  all  their  Linnen  may  be  spent  in  lint.  90 

And  give  them  Children  with  ingenuous  faces, 

Indued  with  all  the  Ornaments  and  Graces 

Of  Soul  and  Body,  that  it  may  be  known 

To  others,  and  themselves,  they'r  not  their  own. 

And  if  this  vex  'um  not,  Tie  grieve  the  Town  95 

With  this  curse,  States  put  Trinity-Lecture  down. 

But  my  last  Imprecation  this  shall  be, 

May  they  more  Debtors  have,  and  all  like  me. 

(98)  all]  om.  '43. 


A  Character. 

Aulico-Politico-Academico. 

THou  Cozen  to  great  Madams  and  allyed, 
To  all  the  Beauties  that  are  Ladified, 
Thou  Eagle  of  the  Realm  whose  eyes  can  see, 
Th'  invisible  plots  of  forraign  policie, 
Thou  great  and  unknown  Learning  of  thy  Nation      5 
Made  not  by  studie,  but  by  inspiration! 
The  Court,  the  State,  the  Schooles  together  be 
By  th'  ears,  and  fight,  and  scratch,  and  all  for  thee. 
When  I  behold  thee  cringe  in  some  fair  Hall, 
And  scrape  proportions  Mathematicall,  10 

(7)  Schooles]  Schollers  '64         Scholars  '68. 


POEMS  195 

Varying  thy  mouth  as  'twere  by  Magick-spell 

To  circle,  ovall,  square,  and  triangle, 

And  take  a  Virgin  by  the  Ivory  hand 

Minting  words  to  her,  none  can  understand 

But  in  a  vision,  and  some  verse  repeat  15 

So  well  inchanted,  none  the  sense  can  get, 

Till  they  have  conjur'd  in  lines  strange  and  many. 

To  find  what  spirit  it  has,  if  it  have  any. 

To  see  thy  feet  (though  nature  made  them  splay) 

Screw  in  the  toes  to  dance  and  force  a  way  20 

To  some  smooth  measure,  as  might  justly  vaunt 

Thou  art  turn'd  Monseur  of  an  Elephant. 

Thy  mother  sure  going  to  see  some  sport, 

Tilting,  or  Masque,  conceav'd  thee  in  the  Court. 

But  when  I  view  thee  gravely  nod,  and  spit  25 

In  a  grave  posture,  shake  the  head,  and  fit 

Plots  to  bring  Spain  to  England,  and  confine 

King  Philips  Indies  unto  Middletons  Mine. 

When  I  read  o're  thy  comments  sagely  writ 

On  the  Currantoes,  and  with  how  much  wit  30 

Thy  profound  Apborismes  do  expound  to  us 

The  Almanacks,  and  Gallobelgicus; 

When  I  conceive  what  news  thou  wilt  bring  ore 

When  thou  returnst  with  thy  Embassador; 

What  slops  the  Switzer  wears  to  hide  his  joynts,      35 

How  French  and  how  the  Spaniard  trusse  their  points, 

How  ropes  of  Onions  at  Saint  Omers  go, 

And  whether  Turks  be  Christians  yea  or  no. 

Then  I  believe  one  in  deep  points  so  able, 

Was  surely  got  under  the  Councell-table.  40 

(15)  verse]  words  '68.  (28)  Mine  '40. 

(16)  get.     '43,  '68.  (33)  o're  '43,  ff. 

(20)  away  '40,  '43.  (35)  dope*  '64,  '68         Switurs  '43,  '$1. 

(27)  to  England,  '40. 


196  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

But  when  I  hear  thee  of  Celarent  write 

In  Ferio  and  Baralypton  fight, 

Me  thinks  my  then  Prophetike  soul  durst  tell 

Thou  must  be  born  at  Aristotles  Well. 

But  shall  I  tell  thee  friend  how  thy  blest  fate  45 

By  chance  hath  made  thy  name  so  fortunate. 

The  States-man  thinks  thou  hast  too  much  o'th'Court, 

The  Courtier  thinks  thy  sager  parts  do  sort 

Best  for  the  State;   as  for  the  Ladies  they 

Pos'd  with  the  Medley  of  thy  language,  say  50. 

Th'  art  a  meer  Scholler,  and  the  Scholler  swears 

Thou  art  of  any  tribe  rather  then  theirs. 

One  thinks  thee  this,  one  that,  a  third  thinks  either, 

Thou  thinkst  thy  self  th'art  all,  and  I  think  neither. 


On  the  losse  of  his  Finger. 

HOw  much  more  blest  are  trees  then  men, 
Their  boughes  lopt  off  will  grow  agen; 
But  if  the  steel  our  limbs  dissever, 
The  joynt  once  lost  is  lost  for  ever. 
But  fondly  I  dull  fool  complain,  5 

Our  members  shall  revive  again; 
And  thou  poor  finger  that  art  dust 
Before  the  other  members,  must 
Return  as  soon  at  heavens  command, 
And  reunited  be  to  th*  hand  10 

As  those  that  are  not  ashes  yet; 
Why  dost  thou  then  so  envious  sit, 
And  malice  Oaks  that  they  to  fate 
Are  tenants  of  a  longer  date? 

(i)  ,]  ?  '43,  ff-  (9)  soon  as  '43,  ff. 


POEMS  197 

Their  leafes  do  more  years  include  15 

But  once  expir'd,  are  nere  renew'd. 

Therefore  dear  finger  though  thou  be 

Cut  from  those  muscles  govern'd  thee, 

And  had  thy  motion  at  command, 

Yet  still  as  in  a  margent  stand,  20 

To  point  my  thoughts  to  fix  upon 

The  hope  of  Resurrection: 

And  since  thou  canst  no  finger  be 

Be  a  deaths  head  to  humble  me, 

Till  death  doth  threat  her  sting  in  vain,  25 

And  we  in  heaven  shake  hands  again. 


A  paraneticon  to  the  truly  noble  Gentlman 
M.  Endymion  Porter. 

GOe  bashfull  Muse,  thy  message  isto  one 
That  drinks  and  fils  thy  Helicon. 
Who  when  his  quill  a  sportive  number  seeks, 

Plants  Roses  in  the  Ladies  cheeks. 
And  with  a  sad  note  from  their  eyes  can  call  5 

Pearl-showres  to  dew  those  buds  withall, 
Whose  layes  when  I  by  chance  am  blest  to  hear 

My  soul  climbs  up  into  my  ear, 
And  bids  your  sisters  challenge  from  the  Moon 

The  Learned,  as  the  fair  Endymion.  10 

Sing  of  his  faith  to  the  bright  soul  that's  fled, 

And  left  you  all  poor  girls  struck  dead 
With  just  despair  of  any  future  men 

T'employ,  or  to  reward  a  Pen. 

(l)  is]  tell  '64,  '68. 


198  rHOMAS  RANDOLPH 

A  soul  that  staying  would  have  wonders  wrought,    15 

High  as  himself,  or  his  great  thought, 
And  full  of  dayes,  and  honours  (with  our  prayers, 

In  stead  of  Beads  summ'd  up  with  tears.) 
Might  of  her  own  free  flight  to  heaven  have  gone, 

Offer  what's  heart,  his  hand,  his  sword  had  done.  20 
But  sing  not  thou  a  tale  of  discontent 

To  him  whose  joy  is  to  lament. 
We  ought  to  pay  true  tears  upon  the  hearse, 

And  lay  some  up  in  faithfull  verse, 
And  so  cast  off  our  black;    for  more  then  thus          25 

Troubles  the  saints  for  troubling  us. 
Say  to  him,  Cupid  being  once  too  kinde 

Wept  out  his  eyes  and  so  grew  blinde. 
For  dead  Adonis,  grief  being  paid  her  due 

He  turn'd  Loves  wanton  god,  and  so  do  you.        30 

(17)  prayer  '52.  (20)  .]  ,  '40,  *43,  '$*•  (*7)  Cupid  '43,  ff. 


To  a  painted  Mistresst. 

THere  are  who  know  what  once  to  day  it  was; 
Your  eyes,  your  Conscience,  and  your  morning 

glasse; 

How  durst  you  venture  that  adulterate  part 
Belabour'd  with  your  fucus,  and  best  Art 
To  the  rude  breath  of  every  rash  salute?  5 

What  did  your  prefer  whisper?  expect  suit? 
You  were  too  pliant  with  your  ear,  you  wisht 
Pomatum  and  Vermillion  might  be  kiss'd, 

(4)  Fucus  '43,  ff.  (7)  ,]  ;  '68- 

(6)  ?]  ;  '68.  (8)  Pomatum  and  Fermillion  '43,  ff.  ,]  ;  '68. 


POEMS  199 

That  lip,  that  cheek  by  man  was  never  known, 
Those  favours  you  bestow  are  not  your  own.  10 

Hence  forth  such  kisses  IMe  defie,  like  Thee, 
Which  druggists  sell  to  you,  and  you  to  me. 

(9)  known;  '68. 


To  bis  well  Timbred  Mistresse. 

SWeet,  heard  you  not  fames  latest  breath  rehearse 
How  I  left  hewing  blocks  to  hack  at  Verse, 
Now  grown  the  Master-Log,  while  others  be 
But  shavings  and  the  chips  of  Poetry. 
And  thus  I  Saw  Deal-boards  of  beauty  forth,  5 

To  make  my  Love  a  Warehouse  of  her  worth. 
Her  leggs  are  heart  of  Oak,  and  columns  stand 
To  bear  the  amorous  bulk;    then  Muse  command 
That  Beech  be  work'd  for  thighes  unto  those  legs, 
Turn'd  round  and  carv'd,  and  joynted  fast  with  pegs.io 
Contrive  her  belly  round,  a  dining  roome, 
Where  Love  and  Beauty  will  a  feasting  come, 
Another  story  make  from  wast  to  chin 
With  breasts  like  Pots  to  nest  young  sparrows  in; 
Then  place  the  Garret  of  her  head  above,  15 

Thatcht  with  a  yellow  hair  to  keep  in  Love. 
Thus  have  I  finisht  Beauties  master  prize 
Were  but  the  Glasier  here  to  make  her  eyes. 
Then  Muse  her  out-works  henceforth  cease  to  raise 
To  work  within,  and  wainscot  her  with  praise.         20 

(2)  at]  a  '43,  ff.  (18)  here]  neer  '52. 

(10)  joynted]  joyned  '43,  ff.  (19)  henceforth]  om.  '43,  '52. 


200  THOMAS   RANDOLPH 


On  six  Maids  bathing  themselves  in  a  River. 

WHen  bashfull  Day-light  now  was  gone, 
And  Night  that  hides  a  blush  came  on. 
Six  pretty  Nymphs  to  wash  away 
The  sweating  of  a  summers-day, 

In  Chants  fair  streams  did  gently  swim  5 

And  naked  bathe  each  curious  limbe. 
O  who  had  this  blest  sight  but  seen 
Would  think  that  they  had  Clcelia's  been. 

A  Scholler  that  a  walk  did  take 

(Perchance  for  meditation  sake)  10 

This  better  object  chanc'd  to  finde, 
Straight  all  things  else  were  out  of  minde; 
What  better  study  in  this  life, 
For  Practick  or  Contemplative? 

He  thought,  poor  soul,  what  he  had  seen  15 

Diana  and  her  Nymphs  had  been, 
And  therefore  thought  in  piteous  fear 
Acteons  fortunes  had  been  near. 
Or  that  the  water-Nymphs  they  were 
Together  met  to  sport  them  there.  20 

And  that  to  him  such  love  they  bore 
As  unto  Hilas  once  before. 

What  could  he  think  but  that  his  eye 
Six  Nymphs  at  once  did  there  espie 
Rise  from  the  waves?    Or  that  perchance  25 

Fresh-water  Syrens  came  to  dance 
Upon  the  stream  with  tongue  and  look 
To  tempt  poor  Schollers  from  their  book? 

(l)  ,]  .  '«•  d4)  ?]  •  '40,  '43.  '52- 

(S)  did]  stid  '43.  (17)  in]  it  '68.  (20)  .]  :  '68. 


POEMS  201 

He  could  not  think  they  Graces  were 

Because  their  numbers  doubled  are.  30 

Nor  can  he  think  they  Muses  be 

Because  (alas)  there  wanted  three. 

I  should  have  rather  guest  that  there 
Another  brood  of  Helens  were, 

Begot  by  Jove  upon  the  plains,  35 

Hatch'd  by  some  Leda  of  the  swans. 
The  maids  betrai'd  were  in  a  fright 
And  blusht,  but  'twas  not  seen  by  night. 
At  last  all  by  the  bank  did  stand, 
And  he  (kind  heart)  lent  them  his  hand.  40 

Where  'twas  his  blisse  to  feel  all  o're 
Soft  paps,  smooth  thighes,  and  some  thing  more. 
But  envious  night  hid  from  his  eyes 
The  place  where  love  and  pleasure  lies. 

Guesse  lovers  guesse,  guesse  you  that  dare  45 

What  then  might  be  this  Schollers  prayer. 
That  he  had  been  a  Cat  to  spy, 
Or  had  he  now  Tiberius  eye. 
Yet  since  his  wishes  were  in  vain 
He  helpt  them  d'on  their  clothes  again,  50 

Makes  promise  there  should  none  be  shent, 
So  with  them  to  the  Tavern  went. 
How  they  all  night  did  sport  and  play 
Pardon  my  Muse,  I  dare  not  say; 
Guesse  you  that  have  a  minde  to  know  55 

Whether  he  were  a  fool  or  no. 

(35-36)  Not  in  the  old  editions,  but  printed  by  Hazlitt  from  the  Scatter  good  MS. 
in  the  Huth  Library. 

(42)  something  '52,  ff. 

(43)  Indented  in  '40. 
(S4)  ;]  , '40, '43, '52. 


202  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


The  Wedding  Morne. 

A  Rise,  come  forth,  but  never  to  return 
To  the  same  Center,  'tis  thy  virgin  Urn, 
Bury  it  in  those  thoughts  which  did  possesse 
Thee  from  thy  Cradle,  'till  this  happinesse; 
Which  but  to  think  upon  will  make  they  cheek,         5 
Fairer  then  is  the  morn  you  so  much  seek 
In  beauty  to  outvy;    and  be  the  pride 
Of  all  that  ever  had  the  name  of  bride. 
Up  Maids  and  let  your  nimble  fingers  be 
True  instruments  of  curiosity:  10 

Set  not  a  pin  amisse,  nor  let  a  pleat 
Be  folded  in  her  gown  but  whats  in  state, 
And  when  her  Ivory  Temples  you  would  deck 
Forbear  your  Art,  for  Nature  gives  you  check. 
There  in  the  circuit  of  her  radiant  haire  15 

See  Cupid  fetter'd  in  a  golden  snare. 
Marke  the  triumphant  Throne  wherein  the  Boy 
Installed  sits  to  give  the  Bridegroom  Joy. 
But  when  shees  drest  and  that  her  listning  ear 
Is  welcom'd  by  the  Bridegrooms  being  neer,  20 

Look  how  she  stands  and  how  her  stedfast  eye 
Is  fix'd  on  him  at's  first  discovery. 
Both  being  met,  mark  how  their  souls  do  strive 
To  be  in  cithers  joy  contemplative. 
Whose  kisses  raise  betwixt  them  such  a  fire  25 

That  should  the  Phoenix  see,  he  to  expire 
Would  shun  the  spicy  mountain,  and  so  take 
Himself  between  their  lips  a  grave  to  make. 

(2)  thy]  the  '64,  '68. 
(16)  Cupid  '43,  ff. 
(19)  and]  om.  '68. 


POEMS  203 


In  praise  of  Woemen  in  GeneralL 

HE  is  a  Paricide  to  his  mother's  name, 
And  with  an  impious  hand  murthers  her  fame, 
That  wrongs  the  praise  of  women,  that  dares  write 
Libels  on  Saints,  or  with  foul  ink  requite 
The  milk  they  lent  us:    Better  Sex  command  5 

To  your  defence  my  more  religious  hand 
At  sword,  or  Pen;    yours  was  the  nobler  birth, 
For  you  of  man  were  made,  man  but  of  earth, 
The  son  of  dust;    and  though  your  sin  did  breed 
His  fall,  again  you  rais'd  him  in  your  seed.  10 

Adam  in's  sleep  a  gainfull  losse  sustain'd 
That  for  one  rib  a  better  selfe  regain'd. 
Who  had  he  not  your  blest  creation  seen, 
An  Anchorite  in  Paradise  had  been. 
Why  in  this  work  did  the  creation  rest  15 

But  that  eternall  providence  thought  you  best 
Of  all  his  six  dayes  labour:    beasts  should  do 
Homage  to  man,  but  man  should  wait  on  you. 
You  are  of  comlier  sight,  of  daintier  touch, 
A  tender  flesh,  a  colour  bright,  and  such  20 

As  Parians  see  in  marble,  skin  more  fair, 
More  glorious  head,  and  far  more  glorious  hair, 
Eyes  full  of  grace,  and  quicknesse,  purer  roses 
Blush  in  your  cheeks,  a  milder  white  composes 
Your  stately  fronts,  your  breath  more  sweet  then  his    25 
Breaths  spice,  and  Nectar  drops  at  every  kisse. 
Your  skins  are  smooth,  bristles  on  theirs  do  grow 
Like  quills  of  Pocupins,  rough  wooll  doth  flow 

(7)  yours]  ours  '40,  '43,  '52,  '64  w»»]  it  '52. 

(9)  Sun  '68.  (11) 


204  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

CXre  all  their  faces,  you  approach  more  near 

The  form  of  angels;    they  like  beasts  appear:  30 

If  then  in  bodies  where  the  souls  do  dwell 

You  better  us,  do  then  our  souls  excell? 

No;   we  in  souls  equall  perfection  see, 

There  can  in  them  nor  male  nor  female  be. 

Boast  we  of  knowledge?  you  have  more  then  we      35 

You  were  the  first  ventur'd  to  pluck  the  tree. 

And  that  more  Rhetorick  in  your  tongues  doth  ly 

Let  him  dispute  against  that  dares  deny 

Your  least  commands;    and  not  perswaded  be 

With  Sampsons  strength,  and  Davids  pietie,  40 

To  be  your  willing  Captives;   vertue  sure 

Were  blinde  as  fortune,  should  she  choose  the  poor 

Rough  cottage  man  to  live  in,  and  despise 

To  dwell  in  you  the  stately  edifice. 

Thus  you  are  prov'd  the  better  sex,  and  we  45 

Must  all  repent  that  in  our  Pedigree 

We  choose  the  fathers  name,  where  should  we  take 

The  mothers,  a  more  honour'd  blood,  'twould  make 

Our  generation  sure,  and  certain  be, 

And  I'de  beleeve  some  faith  in  Heraldry!  50 

Thus  perfect  Creatures  if  detraction  rise 

Against  your  sex  dispute  but  with  your  eyes, 

Your  hand,  your  lip,  your  brow,  there  will  be  sent 

So  subtile  and  so  strong  an  argument 

Will  teach  the  Stoick  his  affection  too,  55 

And  call  the  Cinick  from  his  Tub  to  woo. 

Thus  mustring  up  your  beauteous  troops,  go  on 

The  fairest  is  the  valiant  Amazon. 

(37)  doth]  do  '68. 
(46)  Pedigree.  '43,  '52. 


POEMS  205 

To  M.  I.  S.  on  bis  Gratffull  Servant. 

f  Cannot  fulminate  or  tonitruate  words, 
•*•  To  puzzle  intellects,  my  ninth  lasse  affords 
No  Lycophronian  buskins,  nor  can  strain 
Garagantuan  lines  to  Gigantize  thy  vein, 
Nor  make  a  jus  jurand,  that  thy  great  plaies  5 

Are  terr'del  fo-gos,  or  incognitaes; 
Thy  Pegasus  in  his  admir'd  careere, 
Curvets  no  Capreols  of  Nonsence  here. 

(3)  sycophronian  G.  S.  '37.  (6)  terra  del  fo'gods  G.  S.  '37. 

(4)  Garaganturn '43     Garaganturne  "52.      (8)  no]]  on  G.  S. '37.     Non-sence '68- 

WOnder  not  friend,  that  I  do  entertain 
Such  language,  that  both  think  &  speak  so 
plain.  10 

Know,  I  applaud  thy  smooth  and  even  strains, 
That  will  inform,  and  not  confound  our  brains. 
Thy  Helicon,  like  a  smooth  stream  doth  flow, 
While  others  with  disturbed  channels  go, 
And  headlong,  like  Niles  Cataracts  do  fall  15 

With  a  huge  noyse,  and  yet  not  heard  at  all. 
When  thy  intelligence  on  the  Cock-pit  stage 
Gives  it  a  soul  from  the  immortall  rage 
I  hear  the  Muses  birds  with  full  delight 
Sing  where  the  birds  of  Mars  were  wont  to  fight:       20 
Nor  flatter  I,  thou  knowest  I  do  abhor  it; 
Let  others  praise  thy  Play,  He  love  thee  for  it; 
That  he  that  knows  my  friend  shall  say,  he  has 
A  friend  as  Gratefull  as  his  Servant  was. 

(IS)  Nile  Cataracts  G.  S.  37. 

(12)  Pie '43,  ff. 

The  poem  is  signed  Tho.  Randolph,  in  G.  S.  '37. 


POEMS 

MORE  OR  LESS  DOUBTFUL 

not  in  any  of  the  early  editions  of  Randolph; 
added  from  various  sources. 


The  Towns-metis  Petition  of  Cambridge.1 

NOw  Scholars,  look  unto  it, 
For  you  will  all  be  undon, 
For  the  last  week,  you  know  it, 

The  Towns-men  rid  to  London: 
The  Mayor,  if  he  thrives,  5 

Hath  promised,  on  his  word, 
The  King  a  pair  of  Knives, 

If  he'll  give  him  a  Sword, 
That  he  may  put  the  Beadles  down, 

And  walk  in  worship  here,  10 

And  kill  all  Scholars  in  the  Town 

That  thus  do  domineer. 
And  then  unto  the  Court 

They  do  themselves  repair, 
To  make  the  King  some  sport,  15 

And  all  his  Nobles  there. 
He  down  upon  his  knee, 

Both  he  and  they  together: 
A  Sword,  he  cryes,  good  King,  give  me, 

That  I  may  cut  a  feather.  20 

There's  none  at  all  I  have  at  home, 

Will  fit  my  hand  I  swear; 
But  one  of  yours  will  best  become 

A  Sword  to  domineer. 
These  Scholars  keep  such  wreaks,  25 

As  makes  us  all  afeard, 

«  From  the  Crave  of  Kind  London  Gossips,  1662,  where  it  is  credited  to  "T. 
Randolph." 

209 


210  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

That  if  to  them  a  Towns-man  speaks, 

They  will  pull  off  his  beard: 
But  if  your  Grace  such  licence  gives, 

Then  let  us  all  be  dead,  30 

If  each  of  us  had  not  as  lieve 

He  should  pull  off  his  head. 
They  call  us  silly  drunkards  too; 

We  know  not  why,  nor  where; 
All  this,  and  more  than  this,  they  do,  35 

'Cause  they  will  domineer. 
A  speech  if  I  do  make, 

That  hath  much  learning  in't, 
A  Scholar  comes  to  take, 

And  set  it  out  in  print;  40 

We  dare  not  touch  them  for  our  lives, 

Good  King,  have  pity  on  us! 
For  first  they  play  upon  our  Wives, 

And  then  make  songs  upon  us. 
Would  we  have  power  to  put,  45 

And  turn  on  them  the  jeer, 
Then  we  would  do  the  best  we  could, 

But  we  would  domineer, 
They  stand  much  on  their  wit, 

We  know  not  what  it  is  50 

But  surely  had  we  liked  it, 

We  had  got  some  of  this. 
But  since  it  will  no  better  be, 

We  are  constraint  to  frame 
Petitions  to  your  Majesty,  55 

These  witty  ones  to  tame. 
A  sword  would  scare  them  all,  I  say, 

And  put  them  in  great  fear; 


POEMS  211 

A  Sword  of  you,  good  King,  we  pray, 

That  we  may  domineer:  60 

Which,  if  your  Grace  permits, 

Wee'll  make  them  look  about  'urn; 
But  yet  they  have  such  pleasant  wits, 

We  cannot  live  without  'urn. 
They  have  such  pretty  arguments,  65 

To  run  upon  our  score; 
They  say  fair  words,  and  good  intents 

Are  worth  twice  as  much  more. 
And  that  a  clown  is  highly  grac't, 

To  sit  a  Scholar  near;  70 

And  thus  we  are  like  fools  out-fac't, 

And  they  do  domineer. 
But  if  you  will  renew 

To  us  your  Grace's  Charter, 
Wee'l  give  a  ribbon  blew  75 

To  some  Knight  of  the  Garter. 
A  cap  also  we  want, 

And  Maintenance  much  more. 
And  yet  those  Scholars  brag  and  vaunt 

As  if  they  had  good  store.  80 

But  not  a  penny  we  can  see, 

Save  once  in  twice  7  year: 
They  say  it  is  no  policy, 

Drunkards  should  domineer. 
Now  reason,  reason  cries,  Alas  85 

Good  Lord-lings,  mark  it  well, 
A  Scholar  told  me  that  it  was 

A  perfect  parallel. 
Their  case  and  ours  so  equal  stand 

As  in  a  way-scale  true,  90 


212  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

A  pound  of  Candles  on  each  hand, 

Will  neither  higher  shew. 
Then,  prethee  listen  to  my  speech, 

As  thou  shalt  after  hear: 
And  then  I  doubt  it  not,  my  Liege,  95 

But  we  shall  domineer. 
Vice-Chancellors  they  have 

And  we  have  Mayors  wise, 
With  Proctors  and  with  Taskers  grave, 

Our  Bayliffs  you  may  size:  100 

Their  silver  Staves  keep  much  adoe, 

Much  more  our  silver  Maces; 
And  some  think,  that  our  Serjeant  too 

Their  Beadle-Squires  out-faces. 
And  if  we  had  a  Sword  I  think  105 

Along  the  street  to  bear, 
'Twould  make  the  proudest  of  them  shrink, 

And  we  should  domineer: 
They've  Patrons  of  Nobility, 

And  we  have  our  partakers;  no 

They've  Doctors  of  Divinity, 

And  we  have  Basket-makers: 
Their  Heads,  our  brethren  dear, 

Their  Fellows,  our  householders; 
Shall  match  them,  and  we  think  to  bear  115 

Them  down  by  head  and  shoulders. 
A  Sword  give  us,  O  king,  we  pray, 

That  we  may  top  them  there; 
Since  every  Dog  must  have  its  day, 

Let  us  once  domineer.  120 

When  they  had  made  the  King  to  laugh, 

And  see  one  kiss  his  hand; 


POEMS  213 

Then  little  mirth  they  make,  as  if 

His  mind  they  understand. 
Avoid  the  room,  an  Usher  cryes,  125 

The  King  will  private  sup: 
And  so  they  all  came  down  like  fools, 

As  they  before  went  up. 
They  cry'd  God  bless  his  Majesty; 

And  then  no  doubt  they  sware,  130 

They'l  have  the  Town  made  a  City, 

And  here  so  domineer. 
But  wot  ye  what  the  King  did  think, 

And  what  his  meaning  was; 
I  vow  unto  you  by  this  drink,  135 

A  rare  device  he  has: 
His  Majesty  hath  pen'd  it, 

That  they'l  be  ne're  the  better: 
And  so  he  means  to  send  it, 

All  in  a  Latine  Letter,  140 

Which  when  it  comes  for  to  be  read, 

It  plainly  will  appear, 
The  Towns-men  they  must  hang  the'  head, 

And  the  Scholars  must  domineer. 


On  the  Fall  of  the  Mitre  Tavern  in  Cambridge}- 

LAment,  lament,  ye  Scholars  all, 
Each  wear  his  blackest  Gown: 
The  Mitre  that  held  up  your  wits, 
Is  now  itself  fain  down. 


1  From  the  Crnve  of  Kind  London  Gossips,  1662,  where,  however,  no  author'* 
»me  is  given,  and  it  is  not  divided  into  stanzas.     See  notes. 


214  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

The  dismal  fire  of  London-Bridge,  5 

Can  move  no  heart  of  mine: 
For  that  but  o're  the  water  stood, 

But  this  stood  o're  the  wine. 

It  needs  must  melt,  each  Christians  heart, 

That  this  sad  newes  but  hears.  10 

To  think  how  the  sad  Hogsheads  wept 
Good  Sack  and  Claret  tears, 

The  zealous  Students  of  the  place 

Change  of  Religion  fear, 
Lest  this  mishap  may  chance  bring  in  15 

The  heresie  of  Beer. 

Unhappy  Mitre!     I  would  know 

The  cause  of  this  sad  hap: 
Came  it  by  making  legs  too  low 

To  Pembrook's  Cardinals  Cap?  20 

Then  know  thy  self,  and  cringe  no  more, 

Since  Popery  went  down, 
That  Cap  must  vail  to  thee,  for  now 

The  Mitre's  next  the  Crown. 

Or  was't,  because  our  company  25 

Did  not  frequent  thy  Cell 
As  we  were  wont,  to  cure  these  cares, 

Thou  fox'dst  thy  self  and  fell? 

No  sure,  the  Devil  was  adry, 

And  caus'd  a  fatal  blow;  30 

'Twas  he  that  made  the  Cellar  sink, 

That  he  might  drink  below. 


POEMS  215 

Yet,  though  some  say,  the  Devil  did  it, 

'Cause  he  might  drink  up  all. 
I  rather  think  the  Pope  was  drunk,  35 

And  let  his  Mitre  fall. 

Lament,  ye  .Eaton-conjurers, 

Because  your  lack  of  knowledge 
To  let  a  Tavern  fall  that  stood 

On  the  walls  of  your  Colledge.  40 

Let  the  Rose  with  the  Falcon  molt, 

Whiles  Sam  enjoyes  his  wishes: 
The  Dolphin  too  must  cast  her  Crown, 

Wine  was  not  made  for  Fishes. 

That  Sign  a  Tavern  best  befits,  45 

Which  shews  who  loves  Wine  best: 

The  Mitre's  then  the  only  Sign, 
For  that's  the  Scholar's  crest. 

Then  drink  Sack  Sam,  and  cheer  thy  heart, 

Be  not  dismaid  at  all;  50 

For  we  will  drink  it  up  again, 

Though  our  selves  de  catch  a  fall, 

Wee'll  be  thy  workmen  day  and  night, 

In  spight  of  bugbear-Proctors, 
We  drank  like  fresh-men  all  before,  55 

But  now  wee'll  drink  like  Doctors. 


2l6  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


Annagram.     Virtue  alone  thy  Blisse.1 

Descent  of  birth  is  a  vaine  good 

Doubtfully  sprung  from  others  bloud, 

Wealth,  though  it  be  the  worldlings  baite, 

Wise  men  but  use  to  make  up  weight: 

Witt  in  a  woman  I  scarce  know  5 

Whether  it  be  a  praise  or  no: 

Beautie's  a  glorious  flower,  but  gone 

And  wither'd  ere  the  spring  be  done: 

All  those  thou  dost  as  Jewells  weare, 

But  more  thine  owne  perfections  are;  10 

For  thine  a  nobler  bloud  shall  bee 

Whose  pure  descent  flowes  but  from  thee; 

Thy  wealth  is  goodnesse,  such  a  store 

As  is  more  pretious  then  the  oare 

That  loades  the  yeerely  fleetes  of  Spayne,  15 

For  which  the  naked  Indians  slayne; 

Thy  witt  soe  chaste,  thou  mights't  have  beene 

Not  Sapho,  but  the  Sheba  Queene: 

A  beauty  thou  thy  selfe  hast  made 

Whose  Rose  and  Lilly  shall  not  fade,  20 

Sett  in  the  soule  not  in  the  face, 

That  garden  is  a  fading  place; 

In  thee  both  soule  and  body  are 

Equally  noble  rich,  and  faire, 

Outward,  and  inward  graces  kisse,  25 

Cause,  virtue  is  alone  thy  blisse; 

Nor  is  this  stollne,  or  borrowed  fame, 

Thy  praise  is  all  thine  owne,  thy  name. 

From  Harl.  MS.  6917,  where  it  is  credited  to  T:  Randolph. 


POEMS  217 


An  Epitbalamium.1 

Bliss  court  thee  sweetest  soule,  and  fall  soe  thick 

That  it  outwit  or  pose  arithmetick. 

'Mongst  all  those  ioyes  which  from  the  holy  shrine 

As  you  return'd  the  virgins  gave,  lett  mine 

I  pray  have  entertainment,  for  they  come  5 

To  sing  in  your  Epithalamium. 

0  prove  soe  happy  in  thy  nuptiall, 

That  when  beleaguerd,  slow-faith  virgins  shall 

Cruelly  deliberate,  and  refuse 

The  rights  of  Hymen,  all  our  youths  may  use  10 

This  rare  stratigem,  tell  them  but  a  story 

Of  thy  blest  bridall's  fortune,  and  their  glory 

Which  must  so  hale  them,  that  they  straight  will  be 

All  wives  in  hope  to  be  as  blest  as  thee. 

Heauen  send  a  sweet-fac't  heire,  a  chopping  boy,    15 
To  make  thee  sport  at  home,  O  what  ioy 
T'would  be  to  view  both  your  portraictures  done 
Soe  rarly  to  the  life,  and  that  in  one, 
Soe  small  a  peice,  then  if  the  worke  be  showne 
This  would  commend  you  most,  it  is  your  owne.      20 
Pardon  I  can't  expresse  the  thousand  blisse 

1  wish  you  but  the  summe  of  all  is  this. 
He  pray  thou  may  soe  happy  be; 

As  thy  best  honour'd  bedman  is  in  thee. 

Except  but  heaven,  and  he  that  more  would  speake    25 

I  say,  need's  his  expression  must  be  weake. 

1    From  Addit.  MS.  11,811,  where  it  is  credited  to  Thomas  Randolph. 


218  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 


On  a  maide  of  honour  seen  by  a  scollar  in  sommerset 
garden.1 

As  once  in  blacke  I  disrespected  walk't, 

Where  glittering  courtiers  in  their  tissues  stalk't, 

I  cast  by  chaunce  my  melancholy  eye, 

Upon  a  woman  (as  I  thought)  pass'd  by. 

But  when  I  veiw'd  her  ruffe  and  beaver  reard  5 

As  if  Priapus-like  she  would  have  feard, 

The  ravenous  Harpyes  from  the  clustred  grape, 

Then  I  began  much  to  mistrust  her  shape; 

When  veiwing  curiously,  away  she  slipt, 

And  in  a  fount  her  whited  hande  she  dipt.  10 

The  angry  water  as  if  wrong'd  thereby, 

Ranne  murmuring  thence  a  second  touch  to  fly, 

At  which  away  she  stalkes,  and  as  she  goes 

She  viewes  the  situation  of  each  rose; 

And  having  higher  rays'd  her  gowne,  she  gaz'd         15 

Upon  her  crimson  stocking,  which  amaz'd 

Blusht  at  her  open  impudence,  and  sent 

Reflection  to  her  cheeke,  for  punishment. 

As  thus  I  stood  the  gard'ner  chaunce  to  pass. 

My  frend   (quoth  I)  what  is  this  stately  lasse.  20 

A  maide  of  honour  Sr  said  he,  and  goes  away, 

Drawing  a  riddle,  was  enough  to  pose 

The  crafty  Oedipus,  for  I  could 

Nor  mayde,  nor  honour,  sure  no  honesty. 

1  From  Addit.  MS.  11,811,  where  it  is  credited  to  Thomas  Randolph. 
(23)  Hazlitt  adds  [see]  which  is  very  probably  correct. 


POEMS  219 

Epigram.1 

Heavens  decreed,  before  the  world  begun, 
That  such  fair  beauty  should  not  live  a  nun; 
But  if  thou  needs  this  vow  wilt  undertake, 
I  wish  my  arms  a  cloister  for  thy  sake. 

[To  Richard  Weston.~]  * 

Although  your  Lordshipps  happy  annagram 
give  you  of  hard  and  honest  both  the  name 
yet  let  that  hand  (I  pray  you)  fall  on  mee 
gently,  and  pay  mee  with  your  honesty. 

A  letter  to  bis  Mistresse? 

Goe  happy  Paper  by  Command, 

Take  liberty  to  kisse  a  Hand 

More  white  than  any  part  of  thee, 

Although  with  spotts  thou  graced  bee. 

The  glorie  of  the  chiefest  day,  5 

The  morning  Aire  perfum'd  in  May, 

The  first  born  Rose  of  all  the  Spring, 

The  Down  beneath  the  Turtles  Wing. 

A  Lute  just  reaching  to  the  Eare 

Whatere  is  soft,  is  sweet,  is  faire  10 

Are  but  her  shredds  who  fills  the  place 

And  Sume  of  every  Single  grace. 

1  Printed  by  Hazlitt  from  the  Scattergood  MS.  formerly  in  the  collection  of 
Mr.  Henry  Huth. 

»  From  the  fly-leaf  of  the  British  Museum  copy  of  the  1638  edition  of  the  Poem*. 
It  is  there  credited  to  "Tho  Randolph." 

1  From  Addit.  MS.  22,602,  where  it  is  credited  to  T.  Randall. 


220  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

As  in  a  Child  the  Nurse  descries 
The  Mothers  Lips,  the  Fathers  Eyes, 
The  Uncles  Nose,  &  doth  apply  15 

Honors  to  every  part,  So  I 
In  her  could  Analise  the  Store, 
Of  all  that  choice  e're  Nature  wore 
Each  Private  piece  to  mind  may  call 
Some  Earth,  but  none  can  match  it  all.  20 

Poore  Emblemes,  they,  can  but  expresse 
One  Element  of  Comelynesse. 
None  are  so  rich  to  shew  in  One 
All  Samples  of  Perfection. 

Nor  can  the  Pencill  represent  25 

More  than  the  Outward  Lineament. 
Then  who  can  lime  the  portraitour 
Of  beauties  live  Behaviour? 
Or  what  can  figure  evry  kind 

Of  Jewell  that  adorns  her  mind?  30 

Thought  cannot  draw  her  picture  full, 
Each  thought  to  Her  is  grosse  &  dull. 

The  Character  of  a  Perfect  Woman}- 

Apelles  curious  eye  must  gaze  upon 

all  beauties,  and  from  choice  of  all  make  one; 

Thais  must  lend  a  lipp,  Lais  a  cheeke, 

then  for  a  browe  we  must  Oenone  seeke. 

Spoyle  Hermia  for  a  nose,  ravish  an  eye  5 

from  Helen,  and  from  Omphale  snatch  a  thighe: 

Stopp  Atalanta  in  her  nimble  race 

to  borrow  Leggs,  and  parcell  of  her  face; 

i  From  Harl.  MS.  6918,  where  it  is  credited  to  T.  R.  closely  following  other 
poems  which  are  by  Randolph. 


POEMS  221 

robbe  Ledaes  twinns,  and  Venus  breast  must  weare, 

and  cozen  Ariadne  of  her  haire;  10 

wee  make  no  shape  nor  to  encrease  our  store 

of  beauty,  tane  on  trust;   leave  others  poore. 

Like  such  as  thrive  by  breaking;    this  is  she 

of  whom  the  double  faire  Penelope 

Lucrece,  and  Pallas  all  but  copies  are  15 

and  not  examples;   this  is  that  one  rare 

Eternall  forme  of  woman,  which  we  finde 

platonick  dreame  in  none  but  in  the  minde. 

of  the  great  workeman,  by  which  he  creates 

the  rest  oth'  sexe,  and  as  their  severall  fates  20 

gives  them  like  her  th'are  blest,  their  excellence 

brings  but  reflection  of  a  light  from  hence: 

Soe  perfect  as  if  natures  care  had  beene 

To  fitt  the  Inne  a  guest,  the  Guest  an  Inne: 

Her  soule  and  body  equally  divine,  25 

never  dwelt  holyer  saint  in  statelier  shrine; 

in  every  member  some  great  vertue  lives 

that  like  the  soule  informes  the  part,  and  gives 

his  heaven  a  motion,  that  they  all  appeare 

Soe  many  Angells  in  their  proper  Spheare:  30 

I  will  not  say  her  hairs  are  finest  wires 

of  gold  or  silver  (dross  the  world  admires) 

nor  silkewormes  coyles  spunne  by  a  subtle  thread 

but  they  are  crownes  of  rayes  throwne  round  her  head. 

Beames  that  shoote  glory  forth,  by  whose  bright  shine 

we  know  the  orbe  the  circle  is  divine:  36 

Her  browe  is  fairer  than  the  parian  stone 

Fitt  to  make  Altars  on,  where  in  a  throne 

Sitts  maiesty  triumphant,  in  her  hand 

She  beares  a  powerfull  scepter  to  command,  40 

(36)  Thus  in  MS.;  probably  intended  for]  they  circle. 


222  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

and  checke  proud  mortalls  whose  bold   hopes  might 

bee 

such  gyants  as  to  court  Divinitye; 
Under  the  Lidd  that  Canopies  her  eyes 
pure  bashfullnesse  in  mayden  curtaines  lyes, 
from  which,  as  morning,  breakes  a  double  sunne      45 
more  bright  than  eagles  dare  to  gaze  upon; 
Which  when  in  Zeale  they  fixe  on  heaven,  and  then 
Deigne  to  bestow  a  lower  looke  on  men, 
amazed  in  my  thoughts  I  know  not  whether 
they  kindle  more  heate  here,  or  send  more  thither  50 
Which  though  in  us  some  wanton  flames  they  move, 
againe  their  brightness  curbes  ambitious  Love; 
As  misty  fogges  which  into  clouds  are  swelld 
by  the  same  heate  that  raised  them  are  dispelld; 
View  in  her  cheekes  pure  bloud,  nere  tainted  more  55 
than  what  an  apple  surfetted  long  before, 
And  that  refined,  that  in  those  christall  tydes 
but  little  of  originall  blott  resides; 
There  modesty  her  virgin  pallace  keepes, 
behold  yon  bed  of  roses  where  she  sleepes,  60 

Looke  on  that  blush,  for  nought  her  selfe  hath  done, 
her  only  shame  is  this  that  we  have  none; 
Her  corrall  lips  for  God  and  man  prepare 
A  stately  banquet,  then  the  Gods  more  rare; 
Where  to  a  friend  if  curtesie  graunt  a  kisse  65 

tis  frost  in  hers,  yet  lightning  shot  from  his; 
Within  there  runne  two  Ivory  pales  along, 
a  needlesse  fence  for  such  a  vertuous  tongue 
Which  are  but  as  a  guard  to  a  good  prince 
Not  given  for  safety,  but  magnificence;  70 

When  that  Instrument  that  seldome  speakes 
though  all  attend,  unwellcome  silence  breaks, 


POEMS  223 

how  admiration  takes  our  eares,  that  bee 
so  rapt  they  thinke  the  ayre  turnd  harmony; 
Who  sees  her  fingers  in  their  quaint  device  75 

With  cunning  needle  worke  a  paradise, 
Where  flowers,  and  trees,  beasts,  fish,  and  fowle  appear 
Would  think  that  peece  Arts  first  creation  were; 
But  when  she  takes  her  Lute,  and  strikes  the  strings 
themselves  with  wonder,  at  the  hand  that  brings     80 
Divinity  into  them,  you  might  see 
Each  fowle,  each  fish,  each  beast,  each  flower,  and  tree 
runne  from  the  worke,  as  if  they  orpheus  heare, 
and  to  the  hand  that  wrought  them  lend  an  eare; 
yet  here  another  royall  vertue  dwells,  85 

her  charity,  that  all  the  rest  excells, 
and  works  of  mercy  in  more  plenty  powres 
Than  Ceres  eares  of  wheate,  or  Jove  his  showres; 
Her  waste  is  untoucht  snow  girt  with  a  zone  89 

that  bounds  my  course,  as  that  in  heaven  the  sunne; 
Let  wanton  pencills  her  hid  parts  expresse; 
the  Sexe,  and  not  perfection  lyes  in  these; 
To  shadow  every  part  will  pose  my  skill 
whose  meditation  is  above  my  quill; 
She  is  the  workemans  glory,  the  creation  95 

knowes  her  a  master-peece;   mans  admiration 
(though  all  his  Limbes  rebell)  could  not  reveale 
to  such  perfection,  so  much  love  as  zeale; 
She  hath  a  heart  of  soe  strange  temper  framed 
it  cannot  simply  hard,  or  soft  be  named;  too 

the  cause  can  make  it  Adamant,  and  then 
can  melt  that  Adamant  to  waxe  againe; 
And  this  is  natures  phoenix  I  presume 
that  chastly  lives  and  dyes  in  a  perfume. 


224  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Ad  Amicam.1 

Sweet,  doe  not  thy  beauty  wrong 
By  thinking  still  thou  art  too  young, 
The  rose,  &  lilly  in  each  cheeke 
Flourish,  &  noe  more  ripenesse  seeke. 
Those  flaming  beames,  shott  from  thine  eye, 
Doe  shew  Loves  Midsomer  is  nigh. 
Love's  still  young,  &  a  buxome  boy, 
And  young  things  be  allowed  to  toy, 
Then  lose  no  time,  for  love  hath  wings, 
And  flies  away  from  aged  things. 


[On  the  Book  Fish.']  2 

If  Fishes  thus  do  bring  us  Books,  then  we 
May  hope  to  equal  Bodlyes  Library. 


On  Mr  parson  Organist  of  Westminster  Abbye? 

Death  passing  by,  and  hearing  parsons  play 

Stood  much  Amazed  at  his  depth  of  skill 

And  said  this  Artist  must  with  me  away 

for  Death  bereaves  us  of  the  better  still 

Yet  let  the  Quire  whils't  hee  keeps  time  sing  on 

For  Parsons  rests  his  service  being  Done 

1  From  MS.  Tanner,  465,  where  it  is  credited  to  T.  R. 

1  From  Fuller's  Worthies  of  England. 

»  From  MS.  Ashmole  38,  where  it  is  credited  to  Th.  Randall. 


POEMS  22$ 

[On  William  Lawrence^] 

With  diligence  and  trust  most  exemplary 

Did  WILLIAM  LAVRENCE  serve  a  Prebendary; 

And  for  his  Paines  now  past,  before  not  lost, 

Gain'd  this  Remembrance  at  his  Masters  cost. 

O  reade  these  Lines  againe;    you  seldome  find 

A  Servant  faithfull  and  a  Master  kind. 

Short  Hand  he  wrote;    his  Flowre  in  prime  did  fade, 

And  hasty  Death  Short  Hand  of  him  hath  made. 

Well  covth  he  Nv'bers  and  well  mesur'ed  Land; 

Thvs  doth  he  now  that  Grovnd  where  on  yov  stand. 

Wherein  he  lyes  so  Geometricall; 

Art  maketh  some,  but  thvs  will  Nature  all. 


Randolph  his  answer  to  some  merry  companion  2 

From  all  the  ills  that  I  have  done,  Lord,  quit  me  out 

of  hand, 
And   make   me   not   a   scorne  to  fools   that  nothing 

understand. 


[Randolph's  answer  to  the  "  Sons  of  Ben"~]  3 

I  John  Bo  peep,  to  you  four  sheep, 

With  each  one  his  good  fleece, 
If  that  you  are  willing  to  give  me  five  shilling, 

'Tis  fifteen  pence  a  piece. 

1  From  a  transcription  of  Laurence's  epitaph  given  in  Bradley's  Westminster 
Abbey.  The  version  given  by  Aubrey  is  slightly  different. 

1  Printed  by  Hazlitt  from  the  MS.  commonplace-book  of  Henry  Ozinden  of 
Barham,  1647. 

1  From  Winstanley's  life  of  Randolph. 


226  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Praeludium.1 

Gen:  Ho!  Histrio!  I  thought  a  presse  had  swallowed 
you  all,  tis  so  long  since  I  saw  a  Comedie: 
have  you  not  for  want  of  exercise  forgot  your 
quality?  Can  you  stroddle  as  wide,  &  talke 
as  loud  as  you  were  wont  to  doe?  5 

Histr;  Wee  will  Sir  stretch  legs  &  mouth  to  do  you 
service;  though  in  this  dead  vacation  the  one 
hath  beene  onely  employd  in  the  to'thers 
errands;  the  feete  had  little  else  to  do  but  to 
walke  away  the  stomacke  —  10 

Gen:  Well  I  am  glad  the  gagg  is  out  of  your  mouth; 
we  have  had  a  great  dearth  of  witt  all  over 
the  tavernes  &  ordinaryes,  for  want  of  new 
words,  &  had  you  ben  longer  supprest,  we 
must  either  have  new  studyed  Euphues,  or  15 
return'd  to  Greene-s  Arcadia,  or  have  cald  in 
fidlers  &  said  nothing  —  Drinking  in  silence 
wou'd  have  come  up  againe. 

Hist.          It  has  beene  a  wretched  time  with  us  Fme 

sure   all  over  the  towne;    such   an   alteration  20 
cleane  through  'urn  a  fellow  that  has  been  big 
enough  to   play   Hercules,   is   fallen    away    so 
many  Cubitts,  all  the  cloths  in  our  wardrope 
will  not  stuffe  him  up  to  the  stature  —  a  paire 
of  silke  stockings  serv'd  six  of  'urn  from  June  25 
to  October  —  another  had  nothing  to  eat  for 
a  fortnight  togeather  but  a  propertie  buckler. 

Gent.    Hard  of  digestion!  what  play  have  you  today? 

Hist.          One   newly   reviv'd,   the   Hungry   Courtier: 

1  From  Addit.  MS.  37,425.  where  it  is  marked  "T  Randall  after  the  last  Pro- 
logue" in  a  hand  which  another  note  says  is  that  of  "  Ld.  Ch.  Clarendon." 


POEMS  227 

Gent.  the  hungry  Courtier  —  no  —  let  it  be  the  30 
hungry  plaier  —  I  would  not  sit  on  any  stage 
'ith  towne  this  twelve-month,  for  if  they  gape 
as  wide  as  they  usd  to  doe,  I  should  suspect 
a  further  danger  —  there  is  nigh  occasion  to 
feare  the  Actors  will  devoure  the  audience  —  35 
what  think  you  of  a  play  nothing  but  ghosts? 
would  it  not  be  excellently  fitted  for  the  per- 
sons? Never  a  comedy  where  a  pudding  is 
eaten?  or  bowleing  with  penny  loaves?  o  for 
a  yeoman  of  the  guard's  part  at  a  chine  of  40 
beef!  I  would  hardly  trust  thee  at  one  of  your 
woodden  pyes:  —  faith  how  have  you  liv'd? 
Does  the  Lady  at  fifty  hold  out?  prethee  show 
me  how  &  by  what  miracle  you  have  beene 
preserved  —  45 

Hist.  Faith  Sir,  Fie  tell  you  —  some  of  us  have 
beg'd  in  blanke  verse;  others  have  acted  Tam- 
berlaine  to  a  butcher  &  spoke  themselves  'oth 
score  for  a  sheepshead  —  many  have  peeped 
into  roomes  like  fidlers,  Gentlemen  will  you  50 
have  any  speeches  — 

Gent.    Oh  prethee  now  let  me  see  that 

His.          If  you  will  give  us  a  supper  I  doe  thinke  I 
shall  persuade  'urn  too't. 

Gent.        With   all  my  heart;    in  troth   I   pitty  their  55 
miseryes  —  wee  feed  &  cloth  them  with  monyes, 
&  they  Line  us  with  wit.     what  —  easily  per- 
suaded — 

His.          I  sir,  looke  you  this  is  a  great  Captaine. 

Ent.  Captaine  60 

Frost  ceize  my  bloud  if  I  can  beare  the  dov 
were  I  a  pigmie,  twould  exalt  my  wrath 


228  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

to  gyant  bignesse resolution 

awake  &  rise  put  on  thy  cloaths  of  fury 
And    draw   thy    sword    &   march    along    with  65 
mee. 

Gent.         Call  for  the  traine  band,  sure  hee'l  take  the 
towne. 

Cap.     Fix't  is  my  will  &  danger  doe  thy  worst  — 

were     bones     of    matrons     &     the    sculls    of  70 

virgins 

vanishd  &  slaughterd,  built  into  a  bullwarke 
I  would  goe  on  spight  of  the  muskets  teeth 
The  Canons  mouth,  or  Jaw  of  Culverin. 
Death  meet  me  in  the  horridst  face  thou  hast  75 
Jove  set  thy  thunders  to  oppose  my  ayme 
Mars  &  Bellona  fyery  daggers  draw 
yet  I  resolve  as  men  of  valour  should 
To  tast  &  eat  this  peice  of  pasty  crust. 

Gent.        A  desperate  peice  of  service  —  I  would  make  80 
him  a  Captaine  at  least,  if  I  meant  to  assault 
a  cupbord,  or  beseidge  an  Alms-tub  —  here  — 
eat — 

Hist.         Sir  I  have  scene  others  then  plaiers  this  dead 

time  not  very  fatt;  twas  a  Lent  with  us,  &  I  85 
beleive  an  Ember  weeke  with  some  of  you; 
when  you  have  kept  your  Frydayes  two  or 
three  days  together;  wee  have  mett  you  some 
times,  &  fasted  fowre  in  a  messe  at  hospitable 
Humphreys  —  90 

But  here  comes  a  Lover 

Lover       Ah  Cruell  Cupid  well  I  knew  thy  flames 
happy  I  liv'd  —  now  I  lament  &  water 
Earth  with  my  teares;    the  winds  have  heard 
my  sighs,  95 


POEMS  229- 

and      mountaines     eccho-d     with     perpetuall 

grones, 

the  nightingale  listning  to  my  complaints 
sings  out  of  tune,  &  beares  a  part  with  mee 
And  canst  thou  bee  so  cruell,  when  I  languish     100 
In  flames  of  thy  affection  —  gentle  death 
Lend  me  thy  curteous  hand,  o  learne  not  thou 
Scorne  &  disdaine  from  him;   Sir  in  what  desert 
or  wildernesse  were  you  brought  up  ?  what  Tyger 
Leopard  or  Lyonesse  suckled  you  with  bloud.   105 
That  you  can  bee  so  savadge  to  deny 
Your  poore  despaireing  Thisbe,  halfe  a  crowne 
To  vampe  her  bootes. 

Gent.        It  breeds  compunction  in  mee  —  alas  poore 

Lady  —  have  you  any  more  Inhabitants  of  the   no 
land  of  famine? 

His.  Yes  Sir  here  they  are  —  2  Rovers — brothers 
of  the  knife  that  have  fallen  out,  who  shall  eat 
tothers  nose  first  —  you  know  the  meaning 
—  the  quarrell  must  bee  taken  up —  115 

And  let  it  bee  at  your  charge. 

Gen.     At  my  charge?  o  I  understand  you. 

1  Rov.  I  will  unnose  thy  face;    sowce  up  thy  cheekes 

&  cut  thy  body  into  fleetch  &  gammon  — 

2  yield  mee  a  chine,  a  surloine,  &  a  shoulder          120 
or  I  will  ceeze  the  rest  in  sutt  &  smoke. 

1  then  sword  supply  revenge.1 

2  Dy  then,  &  bee  in  brawny  collars  boyld 

bore  as  thou  art. 

1  wilt  thou  yield  up  a  legg?  125 

2  For  I  must  carve  thee. 

1  After  this  line  there  is  in  the  MS.  part  of  another  one  which  ha*  become  inde- 
cipherable. 


230  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

1  Not  the  least  of  pestes. 

2  A  wing  will  serve. 

1  Noe,  if  thou  meane  escape 

resigne  a  collop.  if  not  so,  to  pott,  130 

2  sword  cutt,  &  send  him  to  the  dressing  bord. 
Gent,    what  doe  you  meane,  Gentlemen!  pray  be  not 

so  earnest  in  theise  unciville  quarrelle  — 

1  Sir  thinke  not  by  persuasion  to  controwle 

my  thirsty  steele;   it  must  have  bloud  &  135 

drink  — 

2  thinke  not  Leane  Rhetorique  can  abate  the  edge 
of  hungry  blade,  it  must  have  flesh  &  feed. 

Gent.    I  know  you  have  both  good  stomacks  —  pray 

bee  reconcil'd  —  walke  downe  the  stayres,          140 
&  chew  the  cud  with  my  servingmen. 

1  then  sword  to  sleepe  in  scabbard  —  knife  awake 

2  thou  art  by  miracle  preserved  —  all  freinds 
Say  grace  a  forehand,  least  it  breed  delay. 

I  I  cannot  haveing  said  none  many  a  day.  145 

Gent.  This  is  well  ended  —  so  &  how  have  you 

liv'd  what  Chamelion  shar'd    Commons  with 
you?  what  speech  have  you  knawed  on? 

His.      faith  my  gutts  are  noe  great  storers,  a  little 

serves  mee,  and  you  seldome  heard  a  pismire         150 
complaine  of  a  dearth  o'Corne  yet  — 

Gent.    Who's  this?  how  has  he  liv'd? 

His.       He  has  liv'd  by  speaking  the  prologue  to  this 
play:  he  might  ha'  done  penance  too,  had  not 
that   discharged   his  ordinary  on   a   desperate  155 
day  — 

Gent.  I  shall  heare  that  in  the  cockpit,  well  you 
shall  sup  with  me;  He  send  my  boy  to  be- 
speake  one  dish. 


POEMS  231 

His.      An    oxe,   with    a    pudding   in's    belly,   &  per-  160 
chance  for  second  course  a  dozen  of  calves  in 
a  dish,  &  so  I  shall  expect  you. 


[The  City  of  London.']  l 

O  fortunate  Citie  reioyce  in  thy  Fate 
That  hast  so  religious  a  Magistrate 
Oh  Jonas  the  2^  is  sent  unto  thee 
As  Jonas  the  first  to  old  Ninvee 

Thou  poenitat  Citie  of  London  5 

Divinitie  means  to  cure  all  soules 

And  Charitie  means  to  repaire  old  Powles 

The  Clergie  &  Laytie  lovingly  meete 

Th'  one  sweeps  the  Conscience  the  other  the  Street 

In  the  cleanly  Citie  of  London  10 

Each  Citizen  unto  the  Prison  is  borne 
That  every  night  will  not  hang  out  his  horn 
Yet  spare  all  your  Candles,  good  Providence  might 
And  hang  out  their  wives  that  are  surely  as  light 

In  the  delicate  City  of  London.  *5 

Know  this  good  magistrate  hath  a  command 
In  Middlesex  London  &  chering  &  Strand 
O  with  what  sins,  with  what  sins  are  w'opprest 
When  the  Mayor  on  the  Sabbath  can  take  no  rest 

In  Westminster  nor  in  London  *o 


1  From  MS.  Rawl.  62.  It  is  credited  in  the  margin  to  "  Randall "  in  what  teemi 
to  be  a  later  hand. 


232  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Sobriety  then  shall  arise  some  think 
That  no  man  soe  late  in  the  night  shall  have  drink 
Yet  then  good  fellows  retain  your  old  crimes 
Rise  early  good  fellows  &  be  drunk  betimes 

In  the  temperate  Citty  of  London  25 

Authoritie  now  smites  us  noe  more 
To  drinke  in  a  Taverne,  or  speake  with  a  whore 
The  late  proclamation  was  go  good  sense 
That  banisht  away  all  Gentlemen  hence 

From  the  chargeable  Citie  of  London      30 

The  Bankside  is  honest  &  Bloomsbury  Chasse 
The  Ladies  turn'd  carefull  &  look  to  the  Wast 
Nor  can  we  now  Beershops  in  Turnbull  Street  see 
No  Bawdy  house  now  but  St.  Anthlins  shall  bee 

In  the  Puritan  Citie  of  London  35 

28  go]  thus  in  MS.;  perhaps  intended  for]]  so. 


AMYNTAS 

OR  THE 

IMPOSSIBLE  DOWRY. 

A  PASTORALL    ACTED 

before  the  K  TN  G  £  Q^u  E  E  N  E 

at  White-Hall, 


Written  by  THOMAS  RANDOLPH. 


fafcere  eportet  tvest  diduttttm  Jitert  Curmtn, 


OXFORD, 

Printed  by  LetrurJ Lichptld,  for  Frtncu 
1(538. 


Drammatis  Persona. 

Pilumnus.  The  high  Priest  of  Ceres:   Father  to  Damon 

and  Vrania. 

Medorus.     Father  to  Laurinda. 
Claius.        A  wild   Sylvan,   father  to  Amyntas  and  5 

Amaryllis. 

Corymbus.  An  under  Priest. 
Damon. 


,    Two  Rivalls  in  Laurinda's  Love. 
Alexis. 

Amyntas.    A  mad  Sheapheard.  10 

Laurinda.  A  wavering  Nymph. 
Vrania.      A  sad  Nymph,  enamoured  on  Amyntas. 
Amarillis.  A  distressed  sheapheardesse,  in  love  with 

Damon. 

Thestylis.    An  old  Nymph,  sister  to  Claius.  15 

locastus.     A  fantastique  sheapheard  &  fairy  Knight. 
Bromius.    His  man,  a  blunt  Clowne. 
Mopsus.      A  foolish  Augur  enamoured  on  Thestylis. 
Dorylas.      A  knavish  boy. 

Echo.  20 

Priests. 


Chorus  of 


Sbeapbeards. 


Nymphs. 

Quorum  fit  mentio, 
Philabus. 
Lalage. 
Mycon. 

The  Scene  Sicilie,  in  the 
holy  Vale. 

The  time  an  Astrologicall  day  from 
Noone  to  Noone. 

(10)  mand  'job,  "52         man  '62,  '68.  (16)  &]  and  a  *4ob,  ff. 

234 


Nym. 


PROLOGVS. 


Nymph.    Sbepheard. 
Le  speak  the  Prologue. 


Sbeap.        Then  you  doe  mee  wrong. 
Nym.   Why,  dare  your  Sexe  compare 
with  ours  for  Tongue? 
Sbeap.  A  Female  Prologue! 

Nym.  Yes,  as  well  as  Male. 

Shep.     That's  a  new  trick; 

Nym.  And  t'other  is  as  stale. 

Sbep.     Men  are  more  eloquent  then  women  made:       5 
Nym.     But  women  are  more  powrfull  to  perswade. 
Sbep.     It  seemes  so;  for  I  dare  no  more  contend. 
Nym.     Then  best  give  ore  the  strife,  and  make  an  end. 
Sbeap.  I  will  not  yeeld. 

Nym.  Shall  we  divide  it  then? 

Sbeap.  You  to  the  Woemen  speak. 
Nym.  You  to  the  Men.  10 

Sbeap.  Gentlemen,  looke  not  from  us  Rurall  swains 
For  polish'd  speech,  high  lines,  or  Courtly  straines: 
Expect  not  we  should  bring  a  labour'd  Scene, 
Or  complements;  we  ken  not  what  they  meane. 
Nym.      And  Ladies,  we  poore  Country  Girles  doe 

come  15 

With  such  behaviour  as  we  learn'd  at  home. 
235 


236  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

How  shall  we  talke  to  Nymphs  so  trim  and  gay, 
That  nere  saw  Lady  yet  but  at  a  May? 

She.         His  Muse  is  very  bashfull,  should  you  throw 
A  Snake  into  her  Cradle,  I  doe  know  20 

She  is  no  Hercules  to  outlive  your  Ire: 

Nym.     One  Hisse  would  make  the  fearfull  foole  expire, 
Without  a  sting. 

Shfp.  Gentlemen  doe  but  you 

Like  this,  no  matter  what  the  Woemen  doe. 

Nym.     It  was  a  sawcy  Swaine  thus  to  conclude!           25 
Ladies,  the  Gentlemen  are  not  so  rude, 
If  they  were  ever  school' d  by  powrefull  love, 
As  to  dislike  the  things  you  shall  approve. 
If  you  but  like  him  'twill  be  greater  praise  29 

Then  if  each  Muse  of  Nine  had  fetch'd  him  Baies. 

(18)  yet,  '4ob,  ff. 


AMYNTAS. 


ACTVS  I.     SCENA  I. 


Laurinda.     Dorylas. 

Dor.   h^^,i^^|Is  newes  Laurinda  that  will  ravish  you! 
Laur.     How,  ravish  mee?  if't  be  such 

desperat  newes 
I  pray  conceale  it. 
Dor.  So  I  will. 

Lau.  Nay  Dory  las, 

Pray  tell  it  though. 

Dor.  Tis  desperat  newes,  I  dare  not. 

Laur.  But  prithee  doe. 
Dor.  I  must  conceal  it. 

Laur.  Doe  not.  5 

Dor.         Mistresse,  you  have  prevail'd:  I  will  relate  it. 
Laur.       No  matter  though  whether  you  doe  or  no. 
Dor.         No  ?  then  I  will  not  tell  you. 
Laur.  Yet  I  care  not 

Much  if  I  heare  it. 
Dor.  And  I  care  not  much 

Whether  I  tell't  or  no. 
Laur.  What  is  it? 

Dor.  Nothing.     10 

(8)  tell  it  '68.  (9)  !]  ?  '38. 

237 


238  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Laur.       Sweet  Dorylas  let  me  know. 
Dor.  What  pretty  weather-cocks 

These  women  are!     I  serve  a  Mistresse  here 
Fit  to  have  made  a  Planet:  sheele  waxe  and  wane 
Twice  in  a  minute. 
Laur.  But  good  Dorylas 

Your  newes. 

Dor.  Why  excellent  Newes! 

Laur.  But  what? 

Dor.  Rare  newes!  15 

Newes  fit, 

Laur.  For  what  ? 

Dor.  To  be  conceal'd:    why  Mistresse 

The  Rivalls,  those  on  whom  this  Powerfull  face 

Doth  play  the  tyrant. 

Laur.  Dorylas  what  of  them  ? 

Dor.     Now,  now  shee  wanes :  O  for  a  dainty  Husband 

To   make    her    a    full    Moone!      The     amorous 
couple!  20 

Your  brace  of  sweet  hearts  Damon  and  Alexis 

Desire  your  audience. 
Lau.  Is  this  all  your  newes? 

You  may  conceale  it. 
Dor.  Now  you  have  heard  it  told 

I  may  conceale  it!  well  I  thank  thee  Nature 

Thou  didst  create  me  Man,  for  I  want  wit  25 

Enough  to  make  up  woman:  but  good  Mistresse 

What  doe  you  think  of  Damon? 
Laur.  As  a  man 

Worthy  the  best  of  Nymphs. 
Dor.  What  of  Alexis 

(IS)  Rare  newes?   '68.  (17)  Doth]  Docs  "62,  '68. 

(16), ]  ,  '38       . '401,  's*.  (20)  Q  .  '38.  couple,  '52,  ff. 


AMTNTAS  239 

Laur.  As  one  that  may  deserve  the  fairest  Virgin 

In  Sicilie. 

Dor.  What  Virgin? 

Lau.  Proserpine,  30 

Were  shee  yet  Ceres  daughter. 
Dor.  And  what  Damon? 

Lau.    Hee?    Ceres  selfe,  were  she  not  yet  a  Mother. 
Dor.     Greet,    Greet!    There    is    no    Labyrinth    but  a 
woman! 

Laurinda,  gentle  Mistrese  tell  me  which 

Of  these  you  love  ? 

Lau.  Why  Damon  best  of  any.     35 

Dor.     Why  so,  that's  well  and  plain. 
Lau.  Except  Alexis. 

Dor.     Why  then  you  love  Alexis  best  ? 
Lau.  Of  any. 

Dor.     I  am  glad  on't. 
Lau.  But  my  Damon. 

Dor.  Be  this  true 

And  He  be  sworne  Cupid  is  turn'd  a  jugler; 

Prasto!  you  love  Alexis  best  but  Damon,  40 

And  Damon  but  Alexis!    Love  you  Damon? 
Lau.     I  doe. 

Dor.  And  not  Alexis? 

Lau.  And  Alexis. 

Dor.     Shee  would  ha'  both  I  thinke. 
Laur.  Not  I  by  Ceres. 

Dor.     Then  you  love  neither? 

Lau.  Yes,  I  doe  love  either.  45 

Dor.     Either,  and  yet  not  both,  both  best,  yet  neither; 

Why  doe  you  torture  those  with  equall  Racks, 

(28)  .]  :  '38,  *40a.  (38)  ont.  '38,  '402,  Lau.]  Lau.  '38. 

(3»)  •]  =  '38.  (40)  Prestol  '406,  ff. 

(36)  Alexis '403,  ff. 


240  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

That  both  vow  service  to  you?     If  your  love 

Have  prefer'd  Damon,  tell  Alexis  of  it; 

Or  if  Alexis,  let  poore  Damon  know  it, 

That  he  which  is  refus'd,  smothering  his  flame,    50 

May  make  another  choice,  now  doubtfull  hope 

Kindles  desires  in  both. 

Lau.  Ah  Dorylas, 

Thy  yeares  are  yet  uncapable  of  love! 
Thou  hast  not  learn'd  the  mysteries  of  Cupid! 
Dost  thou  not  see  through  all  Sicilia,  55 

From  gentlest  sheapheards  to  the  meanest  swaines, 
What  inauspitious  torches  Hymen  lights 
At  every  wedding?  what  unfortunate  hands 
Linke  in  the  wedding  ring?     Nothing  but  feares, 
larres,  discontents,  suspicions,  jealousies,  60 

These  many  yeares  meet  in  the  Bridall  sheetes. 
Or  if  all  these  be  missing,  yet  a  Barrennesse, 
A  curse  as  cruell,  or  Abortive  births 
Are  all  the  blessings  crowne  the  Geniall  bed ! 
Till  the  successe  prove  happier,  and  I  finde          65 
A  blessed  change,  ile  temper  my  affection, 
Conceale  my  flames,  dissemble  all  my  fires, 
And  spend  those  yeares  I  owe  to  Love  and  Beauty 
Only  in  choosing  on  whose  love  to  fixe 
My  Love  and  beauty. 

Dor.  Rare  Feminine  wisdome!  70 

Will  you  admit  'em. 

Lau.  Yes,  goe  call  them  hither. 

Yet  doe  not,  now  I  thinke  on't:  yet  you  may  too; 
And  yet  come  back  againe. 

Dor.  Nay  I  will  goe. 

(50)  smothering  in  his  '68.  (69)  on]  one  '52. 

(52)  desire  '403,  ff.  (70)  !]  :   '38. 

(64)  bed  '4ob,  '52  bed.  '68. 


AMTNTAS  241 

Lau.     Why  Dorylas. 

Dor.  What  newes? 

Lau.  Come  back  I  say. 

Dor.    Yes,  to  be  sent  againe. 

Lau.  You'l  stay  I  hope.       75 

Dor.     Not  I  by  Ceres. 

Lau.  Dorylas. 

Dor.  No  good  Mistresse 

Farewell  for  I  at  length  have  learn'd  to  know 
You  call  me  back  only  to  bid  mee  goe.         Exit. 

Lau.    Tis  no  great  matter  sirrah: when  they  come 

lie  beare  myselfe  so  equall  unto  both,  80 

As  both  shall  thinke  I  love  him  best,  this  way 
I  keepe  both  fires  alive,  that  when  I  please 

I  may  take  which  I  please. But  who  comes 

here  ? 

(81)  best,  this  way  '4ob,  '52. 


SCEN.    2. 

Laurinda.     Tbestylis. 

O  Tbestylis  y'are  welcome! 
Tbest.  If  Laurinda, 

My  too  abrupt  intrusion  come  so  rudely 

As  to  disturbe  your  private  Meditations, 

I  beg  your  pardon! 
Lau.  How  now  Thestylis? 

Grown  Orator  of  late?  has  learned  Mopsus 

Read  Rhetorique  unto  you,  that  you  come 

To  see  me  with  Exordiums? 
Tbest.  No  Laurinda; 

But  if  there  be  a  charme  call'd  Rhetorique; 


242  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

An  art,  that  woods  and  forrests  cannot  skill; 
That  with  persuasive  magique  could  command    10 
A  pitty  in  your  soule,  I  would  my  tongue 
Had  learn'd  that  powerfull  art! 

Lau.  Why  Thfstylis, 

Thou  know'st  the  brests   I   suck'd  were  neither 

wolves 

Nor  Tygers,  and  I  have  a  heart  of  waxe, 
Soft  and  soone  melting;    try  this  amorous  heart; 
'tis  not  15 

Of  flint  or  marble. 

The.  If  it  were,  Laurinda, 

The  teares  of  her,  whose  orator  I  come 
Have  power  to  soften  it.     Beauteous  Amaryllis, 
Shee  that  in  this  unfortunate  age  of  love, 
This  haplesse  time  of  Cupids  tyranny  20 

Plac'd  her  affection  on  a  skornfull  sheapheard, 
One  that  disdaines  her  love. 

Lau.  Disdaines  her  love! 

I  tell  thee  Thfstylis  in  my  poore  judgment, 
(And  women  if  no  envy  blind  their  eyes, 
Best  judge  of  womens  beauties)  Amaryllis  25 

May  make  a  Bride  worthy  the  proudest  Sheapheard 
In  all  Sicilia:  but  wherein  can  I 
Pitty  this  injur'd  Nymph? 

The.  Thus  she  desires  you, 

As  you  desire  to  thrive  in  him  you  love; 
As  you  doe  love  him  whom  you  most  desire,        30 
Not  to  love  Damon!    Damon  alas  repaies 
Her  love  with  skorne!  Tis  a  request  she  saies 
She  knowes  you  cannot  grant,  but  if  you  doe  not 
Shee  will  not  live  to  aske  again. 

(12)  ,]  ?  '52.  (15)  heart,  '4ob,  ff.  (32)  Q  ;  '40^,  ff- 


AMYNTAS  243 

Lau.  Poore  Nymph! 

My  Amaryllis  knowes  my  fidelity;  35 

How  often  have  we  sported  on  the  Lawnes, 
And  danc'd  a  roundelay  to  locastus  pipe? 
If  I  can  doe  her  service  Thestylis, 
Be  sure  I  will:  Good  wench,  I  dare  not  stay 
Least  I  displease  my  Father;  who  in  this  age      40 
Of  haplesse  lovers  watches  me  as  close 
As  did  the  Dragon  the  Hesperian  fruit. 
Farewell.  Exit  Laur. 

Tbest.  Farewell  Laurinda!    Thus  poore  foole 

I  toyle  for  others;   like  the  painfull  Bee 
From  every  flower  cull  hony  drops  of  love  45 

To  bring  to  others  hives :  Cupid  does  this 
Cause  I  am  Claius  sister.     Other  Nymphs 
Have  their  varietie  of  loves,  for  every  gowne, 
Nay  every  petticote;  I  have  only  one, 
The  poore  foole  Mopsus!  yet  no  matter  wench,    50 
Fooles  never  were  in  more  request  then  now. 
He  make  much  of  him,  for  that  woman  lyes 
In  weary  sheetes,  whose  Husband  is  too  wise. 

(34)  G  •  '38,  '403.  (35)  by  fidelity,  '52. 

(44)  others  like  the  painfull  Bee,  '4ob,  '52  others,  like  the  painful  Bee,  '68. 

(46)  other  '68. 


SCEN.    3. 

Tbestylis.     Mopsus.     locastus. 

Mop.        locastus,  I  love  Tbestylis  abominably, 
The  mouth  of  my  affection  waters  at  her. 

lo.         Be  wary  Mopsus,  learne  of  mee  to  skorne 
The  mortalls;  choose  a  better  match:  goe  love 
Some  Fairy  Lady!     Princely  Oberon  5 


244  THOM4S  RANDOLPH 

Shall  stand  thy  friend:    and  beauteous  Mob  his 
Queene 

Give  thee  a  Maid  of  Honour. 
Mop.  How  locastus? 

Marry  a  puppet?     Wed  a  mote  ith'  Sunne? 

Goe  looke  a  wife  in  nutshells?  wooe  a  gnat 

That's  nothing  but  a  voice?     No  no,  locastus,     10 

I  must  have  flesh  and  blood,  and  will  have  Thestylis. 

A  fig  for  Fairies! 
Tbfs.  Tis  my  sweet-heart  Mopsus, 

And  his  wise  brother:  O  the  twins  of  folly! 

These  doe  I  entertaine  only  to  season 

The  poore  Amyntas  madnesse.  15 

Mop.  Sacred  red  and  white, 

How  fares  thy  reverend  beauty? 
The.  Very  ill 

Since  you  were  absent,  Mopsus!  where  have  you 

Beene  all  this  live-long  houre? 
Mop.  I  have  been 

Discoursing  with  the  birds. 

The.  Why,  can  birds  speake? 

lo.     In  Fairyland  they  can:  I  have  heard 'em  chirpe  20 

Very  good  Greeke  and  Latin. 
Mop.  And  our  Birds 

Talke  better  farre  then  they :   a  new-laid  egge 

Of  Sicilie  shall  out  talke  the  bravest  Parrat 

In  Oberons  Vtopia. 
The.  But  what  languages 

Doe  they  speake,  servant  ?  25 

Mop.  Severall  languages, 

As  Cawation,  Cbirpation,  Hootation, 

Wbistleation,  Crowation,  Cackleation, 

Shrffkation,  Hissation. 

(16)  thy]  the  '52. 


AMYNTAS  245 

The.  And  Fooleation. 

Mop.    No,  that's  our  language,  we  our  selves  speak  that, 

That  are  the  learned  Augurs. 
The.  What  successe       30 

Does  your  Art  promise? 
Mop.  Very  good. 

The.  What  Birds 

Met  you  then  first? 

Mop.  A  Wood-cock  and  a  Goose. 

Tbf.        Well  met. 
Mop.  I  told  'em  so. 

Tbf.  And  what  might  this  portend  ? 

Mop.      Why  thus and  first  the  Wood-cock 

Wood  and  Cock, 

Both  very  good  signes.     For  first  the  wood  doth 
signify  35 

The  fire  of  our  love  shall  never  goe  out, 

Because  it  has  more  fuell:  wood  doth  signify 

More  fuell. 

The.  What  the  Cock? 

Mop.  Better  then  t'other: 

That  I  shall  crow  ore  those  that  are  my  rivalls, 

And  roost  my  selfe  with  thee.  40 

The.  But  now  the  Goose? 

Mop.         I,  I  the  Goose,  that  likes  me  best  of  all, 

Th'ast  heard  our  gray-beard  sheapherds  talk  of 
Rome, 

And  what  the  Geese  did  there:   The  Goose  doth 
signify 

That  I  shall  keep  thy  Capitoll. 
The.  Good  gander! 

(26)  Hootation.  '38.  (41)  that]  om.  '68. 

(28)  Fooleation?  '406,  ff. 


246  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Io. It  cannot  choose  but  strangely  please  his 

highnesse!  45 

The.      What  are  you  studying  of  locastus,  ha? 
Io.  A  rare  devise,  a  Masque  to  entertaine 

His  grace  of  Fairy  with. 

The.  A  Masque?  what  is't? 

Io.          An  Anti-masque  of  fleaes,  which  I  have  taught 

To  dance  Currantoes  on  a  spiders  thread.  50 

Mop.      An  Anti-masque  of  fleaes?  brother  me  thinkes 

A  masque  of  Birds  were  better,  that  could  dance 

The  morrice  in  the  aire,  Wrens  and  Robin-red- 
brests, 

Linnets,  and  Titmise. 
Io.  So!  and  why  not  rather 

Your   Geese    &   Wood-cocks?   Mortall    hold    thy 
tongue,  S3 

Thou  dost  not  know  the  mystery. 
The.  Tis  true 

He  tells  you  Mopsus,  leave  your  Augurie, 

Follow  his  counsell,  and  be  wise. 
Mop.  Be  wise? 

I  skorne  the  motion !  follow  his  counsell  and  be  wise  ? 

That's  a  fine  trick  i' faith!  is  this  an  age  60 

For  to  be  wise  in  ? 
The.  Then  you  mean  I  see, 

T'expound  the  Oracle. 
Mop.  I  doe  mean  to  be 

Th'  interpreter. 
Io.  And  then  a  jig  of  Pismires 

Is  excellent. 
Mop.  What,  to  interpret  Oracles? 

A  foole  must  be  th'  interpreter.  65 

(4S)  Io.    It  cannot  '68.  (57)  Mopsus;  '68. 


AMYNTAS  247 

The.  Then  no  doubt 

But  you  will  have  the  honour. 
Mop.  Nay  I  hope 

I  am  as  faire  for't  as  another  man. 

If  I  should  now  grow  wise  against  my  will, 

And  catch  this  wisdome! 

The.  Never  feare  it  Mopsus. 

Mop.     Twere  dangerous  vent'ring.     Now  I  think  on't 

too  70 

Pray  Heaven  this  aire  be  wholsome!  is  there  not 

An  antidote  against  it?  what  doe  you  think 

Of  garlick  every  morning? 
The.  Fy  upon't, 

'Twill  spoile  our  kissing!  and  besides  I  tell  you 

Garlick's  a  dangerous  dish,  eating  of  garlick  75 

May  breed  the  sicknesse,  for  as  I  remember 

Tis  the  Phylosophers  dyet. 
Mop.  Certainly 

I  am  infected,  now  the  fit's  upon  mee! 

Tis  some  thing  like  an  ague,  sure  I  caught  it 

With  talking  with  a  Scholar  next  my  heart.  80 

The.  How  sad  a  life  live  I, 

Betwixt  their  folly  and  Amyntas  madnesse! 

For  Mopsus  He  prescribe  you  such  a  diet 

As  shall  secure  you. 
Mop.  Excellent  she  Doctor! 

Your  women  are  the  best  Physitians,  85 

And  have  the  better  practice. 
The.  First  my  Mopsusy 

Take  heed  of  fasting,  for  your  hungry  meales 

Nurse  wisdome. 

(66)  have  honour  '4ob,  '52. 

(70)  ventring.  "38  vent'ring  now  '52  too.  '68. 

(83)  For,  Mopsus,  I  '68. 


248  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Mop.  True!  O  what  a  stomach  have  I 

To  be  her  patient! 
The.  Besides,  take  speciall  care 

You  weare  not  thred-bare  clothes:   'twill  breed  at 
least  90 

Suspicion  you  are  wise. 

lo.  I  marry  will  it. 

The.          And  walke  not  much  alone;  or  if  you  walke 

With  company,  be  sure  you  walke  with  fooles, 

None  of  the  wise. 
Mop.  No,  no  I  warrant  you, 

He  walke  with  no  body  but  my  brother  here,         95 

Or  you,  or  mad  Amyntas. 
The.  By  all  meanes 

Take  heed  of  Travell,  your  beyond-sea  wit 

Is  to  be  feard. 

Mop.  If  ere  I  travell  hang  mee. 

lo.  Not  to  the  Fairy  land  ? 

The.  Thither  he  may. 

But  above  all  things  weare  no  beard,  long    100 
beards 

Are  signes  the  braines  are  full,  because  the  excre- 
ments 

Come  out  so  plentifully. 
lo.  Rather  empty, 

Because  they  have  sent  out  so  much,  as  if 

Their  brains  were  sunk  into  their  beards:    King 
Oberon 

Has  ne're  a  beard,  yet  for  his  wit  I  am  sure          105 

He  might  have  beene  a  Gyant.     Who  comes  here? 
Enter  Dorylas. 

(88)  True?  '68.  (101)  full:  '403,  ff. 

(94)  No,  on,  '40*.  (102)  empty;   '403,  S. 

(100)  beard,]  beardi,  '38.  (104)  beard:  '68. 


AMYNTAS  249 

Dor.        All  haile  unto  the  fam'd  interpreter 

Of  fowles  and  Oracles! 

Mop.  Thankes  good  Dorylas. 

Dor.         How  fares  the  winged  cattell  ?  are  the  woodcocks, 

The  jayes,  the  dawes,  the  cuckoes,  and  the  owles  no 

In  health  ? 

Mop.  I  thank  the  gracious  starres  they  are! 

Dor.         Like  health  unto  the  president  of  the  jigs; 

I  hope  King  Oberon  and  his  royall  Mob 

Are  well. 
lo.  They  are,  I  never  saw  their  Graces 

Eate  such  a  meale  before. 

Dor.  E'ne  much  good  doe't  em!  115 

lo.          They're  rid  a  hunting. 

Do.  Hare  or  Deere  my  Lord  ? 

lo.  Neither,  a  brace  of  snailes  of  the  first  head. 

The.         But  Dorylas,  there's  a  mighty  quarrell  here, 

And  you  are  chosen  umpire. 
Dor.  About  what? 

The.        The  exposition  of  the  Oracle:  120 

Which  of  these  two  you  think  the  verier  foole. 
Dor.         It  is  a  difficult  cause,  first  let  me  pose  'em! 

You  Mopsus,  cause  you  are  a  learned  Augur, 

How  many  are  the  seven  Liberall  Sciences? 
Mop.       Why  much  about  a  dozen. 
Dor.  You  locastus,          125 

When  Oberon  shav'd  himselfe,  who  was  his  Barber? 
lo.          I  knew  him  well,  a  little  dapper  youth, 

They  call  him  Periwinckle. 
Dor.  Tbestylis, 

A  weighty  cause  and  askes  a  longer  time. 
The.      Wee'll  in  the  while  to  comfort  sad  Amyntas.    130 

Exeunt  The.  Mop.  lo. 

(113)  joyall  '38.  (115)  Dir.  '38. 


250  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

ScEN.  4. 
Dorylas.     Laurinda. 

Lau.       I  wonder  much  that  Dorylas  staies  so  long, 

Faine  would  I  heare  whether  they'l  come  or  no 
Do.        Ha?  would  you  so? 
Lau.  I  see  in  your  own  messages 

You  can  goe  fast  enough. 
Dor.  Indeed  forsooth, 

I  loiter'd  by  the  way. 

Lau.  What,  will  they  come?      5 

Dor.        Which  of  them  ? 
Lau.  Damon? 

Dor.  No. 

Lau.  Alexis  will  ? 

Dor.      Nor  he. 

Lau.  How,  neither?  am  I  then  neglected? 

Dor.       Damon  will  come. 

Lau.  And  not  Alexis  too? 

Dor.      Only  Alexis  comes. 
Lau.  Let  him  not  come. 

I  wonder  who  sent  for  him;  unlesse  both  10 

He  speak  with  none. 

Dor.  Why  both  will  visit  you. 

Lau.     Both?  one  had  been  too  many.  Was  e're  Nymph 

So  vex'd  as  I  ?  you  sawcy  rascall  you, 

How  doe  you  strive  to  crosse  me  ? 
Dor.  And  sweet  Mistresse, 

Still  I  will  crosse  you,  'tis  the  only  way  15 

Truely  to  please  you. 

(3)  own]  om.  '4ob,  ff.  (10);  ]  ,  '38,  Voa. 

(6)  Damon.  '62.  (u)  Why?  *sa- 


AMYNTAS  25 1 

SCENA    5. 

Enter  Medorus. 

Medo.  So,  you'l  all  please  her, 

I  wonder  who'l  please  mee  ?  you  all  for  her 
Can  run  on  errants,  carry  love-sick  letters, 
And  amorous  eglogues  from  her  howling  suiters, 
To  her,  and  back  againe,  be  Cupids  Heraulds,       5 
And  point  out  meetings  for  her. 

Dor.  Truly  Sir, 

Not  I,  pray  aske  my  Mistresse:  Doe  I  call 

Your  sweet-hearts speak,  nay  speak  it  if  you 

can. 
Doe  I? 

Lau.  Why  no. 

Do.  Nay  say  your  worst,  I  care  not, 

Did  I  goe  ever?  10 

Lau.  Never. 

Dor.  La  -  you  now! 

We  were  devising  nothing  but  a  snare 
To  catch  the  Pole-cat, 

Med.  Sirrah  get  you  in; 

Take  heed  I  doe  not  find  your  haunts. 

Dor.  What  haunts? 

Med.       You'l  in! 

Dor.         I  know  no  haunts  I  have  but  to  the  Dairy,   15 
To  skimme  the  milke-bowles  like  a  lickerish  Fairy. 

Exit  Dor. 

(7)  Doe  I  call]  om.  4ob.  ff. 

(8)  Your  sweet-hearts  speak  —  speak,  may  speak  it  if  you  can.  '403 . 
Your  sweet  hearts,  speak  nay  speak  if  you  can;  '400. 

Your  sweet-hearts,  speak,  speak,  nay  speak  if  you  can;  '52,  ff. 

(9)  Doe  I?]  Doll?  '68.  (12)  Med.]  om.  '38. 
do)  La  you  *4ob,  ff.                              (14)  !]  ?  '408,  ff. 


252  THOM4S  RANDOLPH 

Me.         He  that's  a  womans  keeper,  should  have  eyes 
A  hundred  more  then  Argus,  and  his  eares 
Double  the  number:  Now  the  newes,  what  letters? 
What  posy,  ring  or  bracelet  wooes  to  day?  20 

What  Grove  to  night  is  conscious  of  your  whispers? 
Come  tell  me,  for  I  fear  your  trusty  squire, 
Your  little  closet  blabbes  into  your  eare 
Some  secret,  let  me  know  it. 

Lau.  Then  you  feare, 

Least  I  should  be  in  love. 

Me.  Indeed  I  doe,  25 

Cupids  a  dangerous  boy,  and  often  wounds 
The  wanton  roving  eye. 

Lau.  Were  I  in  love, 

Not  that  I  am  (for  yet  by  Dian's  bow 
I  have  not  made  my  choice,)  and  yet  suppose  it, 
Suppose  I  say  I  were  in  love,     What  then  ?          30 

Me.  So  I  would  have  thee,  but  not  yet  my  Girle, 
Till  loves  prove  happier,  till  the  wretched  Claius 
Have  satisfied  the  Gods. 

Lau.  Why  Claius,  Father? 

Me.         Hast  thou  not  heard  it? 

Lau.  Never. 

Me.  Tis  impossible. 

Lau.      How  should  I  sir?  you  know  that  my  discourse 35 
Is  all  with  walls  and  pictures,  I  nere  meet 
The  Virgins  on  the  downes. 

Me.  Why  I  will  tell  thee, 

Thou  knowest  Pilumnus? 

Lau.  The  high  Priest  of  Ceres? 

(22)  fear]  know  '38.  (33)  Have]  Hath  '52,  ff. 

(28)  Diana's  '52,  ff.  (37)  ,]  ,  —  '400. 

(29)  it]  om.  *40b,  ff.  (38)  Pilumbujf  '38. 
(32)  loves]  lovers  '52. 


AMTNTAS  253 

Me.       Yes:   This  Pilumnus  had  a  sonne  Philabus, 
Who  was,  while  yet  he  was,  the  only  joy  40 

The  staffe  and  comfort  of  his  fathers  age, 
And  might  have  still  beene  so,  had  not  fond  love 
Vndone  him. 

Lau.  How  did  love  undoe  Philabus? 

Me.       Why  thus;   one  Lalage,  a  beauteous  Nymph 
As  ever  eye  admired,  Alpbestus  daughter,  45 

Was  by  her  father  promis'd  him  in  marriage. 

Lau.      Why  hitherto  his  love  had  good  successe. 

Me.       But  only  promis'd:  for  the  sheapherd  Claius, 
(A  name  accursed  in  Sicilian  fields!) 
Being  rich,  obtain'd  the  beauteous  Lalage          50 
From  sweet  Philezbus:  he  sad  heart  being  rob'd, 
Of  all  his  comfort,  having  lost  the  beauty 
Which  gave  him  life  and  motion;   seeing  Claius 
Injoy  those  lips,  whose  cherries  were  the  food 
That  nurs'd  his  soule,  spent  all  his  time  in  sorrow,  55 
In  melancholy  sighes  and  discontents; 
Look'd  like  a  wither' d  tree  oregrowne  with  mosse, 
His  eyes  were  ever  dropping  Iceacles. 
Disdaine  and  sorrow  made  Pilumnus  rage, 
And  in  this  rage,  he  makes  his  moane  to  Ceres,     60 
(Ceres  most  sacred  of  Sicilian  powers;) 
And  in  those  moanes  he  prosecutes  revenge, 
And  that  revenge  to  fall  on  Lalage. 

Lau.        Would  Ceres  heare  his  praiers? 

Me.  Silly  maid! 

His  passions  were  not  causelesse;    and  with  what 
justice  65 

Could    she    deny   Pilumnus?    how    oft   hath   he 
sprinkled, 

(49)  name]  man  '52,  ff.  (64)  Q  ,  '38.  (66)  the]  he  '68 


254  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

The  finest  flowre  of  wheat,  and  sweetest  myrrhe 

Vpon  her  Altars!     Lalage  ru'd  the  time 

She  flowted  brave  Pbilabus.     Now  she  was  great 

With  two  sweet  twins,  the  faire  chast  Amaryllis,  70 

And  mad  Amyntas;    (an  unluckly  paire!) 

These  shee  brought  forth,  but  never  liv'd  to  see 

them: 

Lucina  caus'd  her  sorrowes  stop  her  breath, 
Leaving  this  matchlesse  paire  of  beauteous  infants, 
In  whom  till  now  she  lives. 

Lau.  After  her  death       75 

How  far'd  the  sorrowfull  Pbilabus? 

Me.  Worse 

Then  ever:  Shee  being  dead  whose  life  was  his, 
Whose  lookes  did  hold  his  eyes  from  shutting  up, 
He  pin'd  away  in  sorrowes,  griefe  it  was 
To  see  she  was  not  his,  but  greater  farre  80 

That  she  was  not  at  all.     Her  Exequies  being  past, 
He  casts  him  down  upon  that  turfe  of  earth, 
Vnder  whose  roofe  his  Lalage  was  hous'd, 
And  parlied  with  her  ashes,  'till  his  own  lampe 
Was  quite  extinguish'd  with  a  fatall  dampe.         85 
Here  ended  th'  noble  sheapheard. 

Lau.  Vnhappy  lover! 

Tis  pitty  but  the  Virgins  once  a  yeare, 
Should  wash  his  tombe  with  maiden  teares!  but 

now 

Both  Lalage  being  dead,  and  her  Philebus,  90 

How  comes  it  other  loves  should  prove  unfortunate  ? 

Mfd.        Pilumnus   having    lost    his    hopefull    Sonne, 
Though  he  had  two  more  children,  fair  Vrania 

(67)  and  the  sweetest  '68  (73)  ,]  .  '38         ;  '408,'  52. 

(68)  0  ?  '40b,  ff. 


AMTNTAS  255 

And  noble  Damon;   yet  the  death  of  Lalage 
Suffic'd  not  his  revenge,  but  he  anew  implores 

His  goddesse  wrath  'gainst  Claius: Doth  Ceres 

prize  me  thus?  95 

Shall  Claius  tread  upon  the  flowry  Plaine, 
And  walke  upon  the  Ashes  of  my  boy? 
Will  I  be  Arcbyflamen  where  the  Gods 
Are  so  remisse?  let  wolves  approach  their  shrines; 
Their  howlings  are  as  powerfull  as  the  Praiers       zoo 

Of  sad  Pilumnus! Such  disgusts  at  last 

Awaken'd  Ceres:  with  hollow  murmuring  noise 

Her  Ompha  like  a  thunder  'gins  to  roare. 

(The  Ompha  if  it  menace  speakes  at  large 

In  copious  language,  but  perplexed  termes.)        105 

And  laid  this  curse  on  all  Trinacria. 

Sicilian  swaines,  ill  luck  shall  long  betide 
To  every  bridegroome,  and  to  every  bride: 
No  sacrifice,  no  vow  shall  still  mine  Ire, 
Till  Claius  blood  both  quench  and  kindle  fire,     no 
The  wise  shall  misconceive  me,  and  the  wit 
Scornd,  and  neglected  shall  my  meaning  hit. 
Lau.          Angry  and  Intricate!  Alas  for  love! 

What  then  became  of  Claius? 

Me.  Why  the  Ompha 

Having  denounc'd  against  him,  and  he  knowing  115 
The  hate  of  old  Pilumnus  fled  away, 
I  think  hee's  sayl'd  to  the  Antipodes. 
No  tydings  can  be  brought  what  ground  receives 

him, 

Vnlesse  Corymbus  make  a  happy  voyage;  119 

Corymbus  that  will  search  both  East  and  Occident 
And  when  he  finds  him,  spill  his  captive  blood. 

(97)  boy]  body  '4ob,  ff.  (102)  :]  on.  '52. 

(99)  ;]   ?'4ob,  '52.  (114)  Ompha,  '38. 


256  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Which  Ceres  grant  he  may!    Tender  Laurinda 
Now  dost  thou  see  the  reason  of  my  care, 
And  why  my  watchfull  eyes  so  close  observe 
Thy  steps  and  actions. 

Lau.  And  I  promise,  father,    125 

To  temper  my  affections,  'till  the  Goddesse 
Doe  mitigate  her  anger. 

Med.  Doe  so  then : 

For  now  you  see  with  what  unfortunate  choice 
Pilumnus  daughter,  delicate  Vrania  loves 
The  mad  Amyntas:  for  the  angry  Goddesse,       130 
Though  she  repaid  the  wrong  done  to  Pbilabus, 
Yet  not  approving  the  reuengefull  mind 
Of  great  Pilumnus,  scourg'd  him  with  his  own  asking, 
By  threatning  an  unhappy  marriage 
To  his  Vrania,  unlesse  he  that  wooes  her  135 

Pay  an  impossible  Dowry;  for  as  others 
Give  Portions  with  their  daughters,  Ceres  Priests 
Vse  to  receive  for  theirs.     The  words  are  these, 
That  which  thou  hast  not,  mayst  not,  canst  not  have 
Amyntas,  is  the  Dowry  that  I  crave.  140 

Rest  hopelesse  in  thy  love,  or  else  divine 
To  give  Vrania  this,  and  she  is  thine: 
Which  while  the  poore  Amyntas  would  Interpret, 
He  lost  his  wits.     Take  heed  of  love,  Laurinda, 
You  see  th'  unhappinesse  of  it  in  others;  145 

Let  not  experience  in  thy  selfe  instruct  thee. 
Be  wise  my  Girle:  so  some  and  follow  me.     Exit. 

Lau.         Tie  make  a  Garland  for  my  kid  and  follow  you. 
What  a  sad  tale  was  here!  how  full  of  sorrow! 
Happy  the  heart  that  never  felt  the  shaft  150 

Of  angry  Cupid! 

(139)  maist  not,  nor  canst  not  '52.  (146)  .]  am.  "403,  '4ob,  '52         ;  '68. 

(149)  here?  "38  sorrow?  '38,  *4Oa. 


AMYNTAS  257 

ScEN.  6. 
Damon        Alexis 

Damon  and  Alexis? 

Their  presence  quickly  puts  these  cogitations 
Out  of  my  mind:   Poore  soules,  I  fain  would  pity 

them, 

And  yet  I  cannot,  for  to  pity  one 
Were  not  to  pity  t'other,  and  to  pity  5 

Both,  were  to  pity  neither.     Mine  old  Temper 
Is  all  the  shift  I  have;   some  dew  of  comfort 
To  either  of  them.     How  now  bold  intruders, 
How  dare  you  venter  on  my  privacy? 
If  you  must  needs  have  this  walk,  be  it  so!  10 

Tie  seeke  another:  What?  you'l  let  me  goe? 

Da.         Cruell  Laurinda  (if  a  word  so  foule 

Can  have  so  faire  a  dwelling.)  scale  not  up 

Thy  eares,  but  let  a  pity  enter  there 

And  find  a  passage  to  thy  heart.  15 

Alex.  Laurinda. 

(The  name  which  but  to  speak  I  would  not  wish 
For  life  or  breath.)     Let  not  thy  powerfull  beauty 
Torment  us  longer:  Tell  us  which  of  us 
You  value  most. 

Da.  And  t'other,  for  old  freindship 

Strangling  his  bitter  Corrasive  in  his  heart,  20 

Hath  promised  to  desist  from  further  suit. 

Alex.        Or  if  he  cannot  so,  assure  he  cannot, 
Yet  he  will  rather  chuse  to  dye  then  live 
Once  to  oppose  your  liking. 

(2)  present*  '54.  (16)  (  ]  om.  '52. 

(9)  venture  *4Ob,  ff.  (17)  )  D  om.  "4Ob,  '52. 


258  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Lau.  Since  you  are  24 

Growne  so  importunate,  and  will  not  be  answer'd 
With  modest  silence;   Know  I  wish  you  well. 

Alex.     How,  me  Laurinda? 

Lau.  Why  I  wish,  Alexis, 

I  were  thy  wife. 

Da.  Then  most  unhappy  me! 

Alex.  That  word  doth  relish  immortalitie.  29 

Lau.    And  I  doe  wish  thou  wer't  my  husband,  Damon. 

Alex.  Still  more  perplexed:  what  doe  you  think  I  am? 

Lau.    My  head,  Alexis. 

Da.  And  what  I  ? 

Lau.  My  heart. 

Da.      Which  hand  am  I? 

Laur.  Damon,  my  right. 

Alex.  Which  I? 

Lau.    My  left,  Alexis. 

Alex.  Thus  you  scorne  my  love. 

Lau.    Not  I,  Alexis:  th'art  my  only  hope.  35 

Da.      Then  I  am  all  despaire,  no  hope  for  me. 

Lau.    Why  so  my  Damon?  thou  art  my  desire. 
Alexis  is  my  flame;  Damon  my  fire. 
Alexis  doth  deserve  my  nuptiall  Bed, 
And  Damon's  worthy  of  my  Maidenhead!  40 

Exit  Lau. 

Alex.   Damon,  desist  thy  suit  or  loose  thy  life; 

Thou  heard'st  Laurinda  wish  she  were  my  wife. 

Da.      Thy  wife,  Alexis?     But  how  can  it  be 

Without  a  Husband  ?  and  I  must  be  he.  44 

Alex.      I  am  her  head:  That  word  doth  seeme  t'impart 
She  meanes  my  marriage. 

(45)  t'import  '62,  '68. 

(46)  my]  me  '68  How?  '62,  '68. 


AMYNTAS  259 

Da.  How  without  her  heart  ? 

For  that  am  I:  besides  you  heard  her  say 

I  was  the  right  hand,  you  the  left,  away, 

Desist  Alexis,  mine's  the  upper  hand. 
Alex.    But,  Damon,  I  next  to  her  heart  doe  stand:       50 

I  am  her  hope,  in  that  you  plainly  see 

The  end  of  her  intents  doth  aime  at  me. 
Da.      But  I  am  her  desire,  in  that  'tis  showne 

Her  only  wish  is  to  make  me  her  owne. 
Alex.   I  am  her  flame. 

Da.  'Tis  true,  but  I  her  fire.  55 

Alex.   The  flames  the  hotter,  therefore  her  desire 

Most  aimes  at  mee. 
Da.  Yet  when  the  flame  is  spent, 

The  fire  continues;  Therefore  me  she  meant. 
Alex.   She  promis'd  now  I  should  injoy  her  Bed. 
Da.      Alexis  doe,  so  I  her  Maidenhead.  60 

Alex.   I  see  she  still  conceales  it,  and  with  speeches 

Perplext  and  doubtfull  masks  her  secret  thoughts. 
Da.      Let's  have  another  meeting,  since  her  words 

Delude  us  thus,  wee'le  haue  a  pregnant  signe 

To  shew  her  mind. 
Alex.  I  goe  that  way  a  hunting,    65 

And  will  call  for  her. 
Da.  I'le  the  while  retire 

Into  the  Temple,  if  I  linger  here 

I  am  afraid  of  meeting  Amaryllis, 

Who  with  unwelcome  love  solicites  me. 
Alex.  And  would  she  might  preuaile! 
Da.  Till  then  farewell.    70 

Alex.   All  happinesse  to  Damon  be 

Except  Laurinda. 

(48)  »w«y;  '68. 


260  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Da.  All  but  her  to  thee. 

Alex.   Thus  we  in  love  and  courtesie  contend. 

Da.      The  name  of  Rivall  should  not  loose  the  Freind. 

Exeunt. 
Finis  actus  I. 


ACTVS    2.  SCEN   I. 

Pilumnus     Vrania. 

Vra.  TG^Ather  perswade  me  not!  The  power  of  heaven 
-i-      Can  never  force  me  from  Amyntas  love; 
'Tis  rooted  here  so  deepe  within  my  heart 
That  he  which  pulls  it  out,  pulls  out  at  once, 
That  and  my  soule  together. 

Pil.  Fond  Frania,        5 

Can  ignorant  love  make  thee  affect  the  seede, 
The  hatefull  seede  of  cursed  Lalage? 
Did  I  for  this  beget  thee  ? 

Vra.  Father,  you  know 

Divinitie  is  powerfull,  Cupids  will 
Must  not  be  question'd:    When   love   meanes   to 
sport  10 

(Phave  heard  your  selfe  relate  it)  he  can  make 
The  Wolfe  and  Lambe  kisse  freindly;   force  the 

Lyon 

T'forget  his  Majestic,  and  in  amorous  dalliance 
Sport  with  the  frisking  Kid.     When  Venus  rides, 
Shee'le  linke  the  ravenous  Kite,  and  milder  Swan  15 
To  the  same  chariot,  and  will  yoak  together 
The  necks  of  Doves  and  Eagles;  when  as  shee 
Commands,  all  things  loose  their  Antipathic, 

(n)  I  have  '68. 


AMYNTAS  26l 

Even  contrarieties:  can  I  alone 

Resist  her  will?     I  cannot,  my  Amyntas  20 

Shall  witnesse  that! 

Pil.  I  blame  thee  not  so  much 

For  loving  him,  while  yet  he  was  Amyntas. 
But  being  mad  and  having  lost  himselfe, 
Why  shouldst  not  thou  loose  thy  affection  too? 

Vra.         I  love  him  now  the  rather;  he  hath  lost         25 
Himselfe  for  me,  and  should  he  loose  me  too? 
It  were  a  sinne  he  should ! 

Pil.  What  canst  thou  love 

In  his  distemper'd  wildnesse? 

Vra.  Only  that, 

His  wildnesse;  'tis  the  comfort  I  have  left 
To  make  my  teares  keepe  time  to  his  distractions;3o 
To  think  as  wildly  as  he  talks;   to  marry 
Our  griefs  together,  since  our  selves  we  cannot. 
The  Oracle  doth  aske  so  strange  a  Dowry, 
That  now  his  company  is  the  only  blisse 
My  love  can  aime  at:   but  I  stay  too  long  35 

I'le  in  to  comfort  him. 

Pil.          Doe  not  Vrania. 

Vra.  Doe  not  ? 

I  must  and  will;  Nature  commands  me  no, 

But  Love  more  powerfull  sayes  it  shall  be  so.  Exit. 

Pil.         The  Gods  did  well  to  make  their  Destinies   40 
Of  woemen,  that  their  wills  might  stand  for  law 
Fixt  and  unchang'd;   who's  this?     Corymbus?  he. 

(42)  this  *4ob,  '52.  he]  om.  '^ob,  ff. 


262  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

ScEN.   2. 
Pilumnus.     Corymbus. 

PH.  Corymbus welcome ! 

Cor.  Sacred  Pilumnus hayle! 

And  fruitfull  Sicilie  I  kisse  thy  dust  — 
Pil.         What  newes   Corymbus?      Is  our  Countrie's 
Mischeif 

Fetter'd  in  chaines? 
Cor.  Thrice  the  sunne  hath  past 

Through  the  twelve   Inns  of  heaven,   since  my 
diligence  5 

Has  been  imploy'd  in  quest  of  him,  whose  death 

Must  give  poore  lovers  life,  the  hatefull  Claius; 

Yet  could  I    ne're   heare  of  him:  —  The   meane 
while 

How  fare  the  poore  Sicilians?     Does  awfull  Ceres 

Still  bend  her  angry  brow?    Find  the  sad  Lovers  10 

No  rest,  no  quiet  yet? 
Pil.  Corymbus  none! 

The  Goddess  has  not  yet  deign'd  to  accept 

One  sacrifice,  no  favourable  Echo 

Resounded  from  her  Ompba;  All  her  answers 

Are  full,  and  doubtfull.  15 

Cor.  The  true  signe,  Pilumnus, 

Her  wrath  is  not  appeas'd. 
Pil.  Appeas'd  say  you? 

Rather  againe  incens'd  so  farre,  Corymbus, 

As  that  my  selfe  am  plagu'd;  My  poore  Vrania 

Dotes  on  Amyntas. 

(8)  heare]  here '68. 

(14)  Resounded]  Sounded  '68. 


AMTNTAS  263 

Cor.        First  shall  our  hives  swarme  in  the  venemous 
yew,  20 

And  Goats  shall  browze  upon  our  myrtle  wands! 
—  One  of  your  blood,  Pilumnus,  (is  it  possible) 
Love  Lalage  and  Claius  brood? 

Pil.  The  chaine  of  fate 

Will  have  it  so!    And  he  lov'd  her  as  much. 

Cor.         That  makes  it  something  better.  25 

Pil.  Ah,  thou  knowest  not 

What  sting  this  waspish  fortune  pricks  me  with! 
I  seeing  their  loves  so  constant,  so  inflexible, 
Chid  with  dame  Ceres  'cause  she  us'd  me  thus. 
My  words  were  inconsiderate,  and  the  heavens 
Punish'd  my  rough  expostulations:  30 

Being  Archiflamen  of  Trinacria 
I  did  demand  a  Dowry  of  that  sheapheard 
That  askes  my  daughter:  —  Set  the  price  said  I, 
Thou  Goddess,  that  dost  cause  such  hatefull  loves; 
If  that  Amyntas  be  thy  darling  swaine,  35 

Aske  thou,  and  set  a  Dowry  for  Vrania: 
With  that  the  Altar  groan'd,  my  haire  grew  stiffe, 
Amyntas  looked  agast;    Vrania  quiver'd, 
And  the  Ompka  answer' d 

Cor.  With  an  Echo; 

Pil.  No. 

Co.          Then  I  presage  some  ill!  40 

Pi.  This  darke  demand, 

That  which  thou  hast  not,  maist  not,  canst  not  have, 
Amyntas,  is  the  dowry  that  I  crave: 
Rest  hopeless e  in  thy  love,  or  else  divine 
To  give  Vrania  this  and  she  is  thine. 

(22)  your]  our  '68.  (30)  rough]  rash  '52 

(28)  'cause]  if  '38,  '408.  (39)  ;]?  Uob,  ff. 


264  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

And  so  he  did,  but  the  perplexed  sense  45 

Troubled  his  braines  so  farre,  he  lost  his  wits; 

Yet  still  he  loves,  and  shee, my  griefe  Corymbus 

Will  not  permit  me  to  relate  the  rest! 
Fie  in  into  the  Temple,  and  expresse 
What's  yet  behinde  in  teares.  Exit.  50 

Corym.  Sad  sad  Pilumnus! 

And  most  distress'd  Sicilians!  Other  nations 
Are  happy  in  their  loves,  you  only  are  unfortu- 
nate! 

In  all  my  travelles  ne'r  a  spring  but  had 
Her  paire  of  lovers,  singing  to  that  musique 
The  gentle  bubling  of  her  waters  made  55 

Never  a  walke  unstor'd  with  amorous  couples, 
Twind  with  so  close  imbraces,  as  if  both 
Meant  to  growe  one  together!  every  shade 
Sheltred  some  happy  loves,  that  counting  dazies, 
Scor'd  up  the  summes  on  one  anothers  lips,          60 
That  met  so  oft  and  close,  as  if  they  had 
Chang'd  soules  at  every  kisse.     The  married  sort 
As  sweet  and  kind  as  they:  at  every  evening 
The  loving  husband  and  full  brested  wife 
Walk'd  on  the  Downs  so  friendly,  as  if  that         65 
Had  been  their  wedding  day.     The  boies  of  five, 
And  girles  of  foure,  e're  that  their  lisping  tongues 
Had  learn'd  to  prattle  plaine,  would  prate  of  love, 
Court  one  another,  and  in  wanton  dalliance 
Returne  such  innocent  kisses,  you'd  have  thought  70 
You  had  scene  Turtles  billing. 

(48)  the]  om.  '38. 
(71)  Tur  les  '38. 


AMYNTAS  265 

ScEN.   3. 
Mopsus.     Corymbus. 

Mop.     What  aire  is  that?  The  voice  of  —  Turtles  billing! 

Of  Turtles!  a  good  Omen!  shee  is  chast 

And  billing,  billing,  o  delicious  billing! 

That  word  presages  kissing. 

Co.  Who  is  this? 

Mopsus,  my  learned  Augur? 
Mop.  Stand  aside,  5 

The  other  side;  I  will  not  talke  to  thee 

Vnlesse  I  have  the  winde. 
Co.         Why,  whats  the  matter  Mopsus? 
Mop.  Th'art  infected; 

Co.         What  with  the  Plague? 
M op.  Worse  then  the  Plague,  the  Wisdom ! 

You  have  been  in  travell,  &  that's  dangerous       10 

For  getting  Wisdome. 
Co.  Then  nere  feare  it,  Mopsus, 

For  I  came  home  a  foole  just  as  I  went. 
Mop.       By  Ceres? 
Co.  Yes. 

Mop.  By  Ceres  welcome  then! 

Co.  But  Mopsus,  why  doe  you  walke  here  alone? 

That's dangerous  too!  15 

Mop.  I :  but  I  come  to  meet 

The  Cittizens  of  the  aire;  you  have  heard  my  skill 

In  augury? 
Co.  Why  I  have  heard  your  name 

Not  mention'd  any  where  in  all  my  travailes. 
Mop.         How?  not  mention'd? 

(10)  intravell,  '38.  (14)  ?]  !  '38,  Uoa.  (15)  Thau  dangerou*  '68. 


266  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Co.  Yo'are  to  hasty  Mopsus, 

Not without  admiration.  20 

Mop.  I  know  that. 

Co.         How  should  you  know  it  ? 

Mop.  Why  some  birds  or  other, 

Fly  from  all  countries  hither,  and  they  tell  me. 
Co.         But  how  dare  you  converse  with  birds  that 

travell  ? 
Mop.     With  an  antidote  I  may:  but  my  Corymbus 

What  strange  birds  have  you  scene  beyond  seas?  25 
Cor.  Brave  ones: 

Ladies  with  fans  and  feathers!  dainty  Fowles! 
There  were  brave  taking  Augury. 
Mop.  But,  Corymbus, 

Are  those  fine  Lady-birds  such  pretty  things? 
Co.         As  tame  as  sparrowes,  and  as  sweet  as  Night- 

ingals. 
Mop.      Is  the  Cocklady-bird,  or  the  Henlady-bird       30 

The  better? 

Co.  All  are  hens. 

Mop.  O  admirable! 

Would  you  had  brought  me  one!  but  whats  the  Fan  ? 

Co.        A  fan's  a wing  of  one  side. 

Mop.  Delicate! 

And  what's  their  Feather? 

Co.  Like  the  copple-crowne 

The  Lap-wing  has:  35 

Mop.  The  Lap-wing?  then  they'l  —  ly. 

Co.         With  men  they  will; 

Mop.  Delicious  Lady-birds! 

But  have  they  such  brave  traines,  such  curious 

tailes 
As  our  birds  have? 


AMTNTAS  267 

Co.  Like  Peacocks,  there's  the  head 

Of  all  their  pride. 

Mop.  Nay  'tis  the  taile  Corymbus, 

Surely  these  things  you  call  the  Lady-birds          40 
Are  the  true  birds  of  Paradice! 

Enter  Corymbus' s  carriages. 

Co.  Very  right 

Mopsus,  I  cannot  stay,  I  must  attend 

My  carriage  to  the  Temple:  gentle  Mopsus 

Farewelll  Exit. 

Mop.  Farewell  Corymbus]  By  my  troth 

I  never  long'd  for  any  thing  in  my  life  45 

So  much  as  Lady-birds;  dainty  Lady-birds! 
I  would  fetch  one  of  them;  but  I  dare  not  travell 
For  fear  I  catch  the  wisdome.     O  sweet  Lady-birds ! 
With  copple  crownes,  and  wings  but  on  one  side! 
And  tailes  like  Peacocks !  curious  Lady-birds !        50 

Uo)  the]  om.  "52. 


SCEN.    4. 

Amyntas.     Vrania.     Amaryllis,     mantt  Mopsus. 

Amyn.       That   which   I   have   not,    may    not,   cannot 
have! 

It  is  the  moone!     frania,  thou  shalt  weare 

The  horned  Goddesse  at  thy  beauteous  eare. 

Come  hither  Pegasus,  I  will  mount  thy  back, 

And  spurre  thee  to  her  orbe. 

Mop.  Oh  good  Amyntas!  5 

Amyn. Why,  art  thou  foundred  Pegasus?  Am- 
aryllis, 

Fetch  him  a  peck  of  provender. 


268  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Vra.  Sweet  Amyntas! 

Amy.     What  sales  my  Cytherea?  wouldst  thou  eat 

A  golden  Apple  ?  if  thou  wilt,  by  Venus 

Fie  rob  th'  Hesperian  Orchard. 

Mop.  Ha  ha  he!         10 

Amyn.     Ha?  dost  thou  laugh  old  Charon?  sirrah  sculler, 

Prepare  thy  boat! 

Ama.  For  what?  deere  brother  speake! 

Amyn.    Art  thou  my  sister  Helen?  were  we  hatchd 

In  the  same  eggshell  ? Is  your  cock-boat  ready  ? 

Mop.       It  is,  an't  please  your  Worship.  15 

Amyn.  Very  well! 

Row  me  to  hell! no  faster?  I  will  have  thee 

Chain'd  unto  Pluto's  gallies! 
Vra.  Why  to  hell, 

My  deere  Amyntas? 

Amy.  Why?  to  borrow  money! 

Ama.     Borrow  there  ? 
Amy.     I  there !  They  say  there  be  more  Vsurers  there  20 

Then  all  the  world  besides: see  how  the  windes 

Rise!  Puffe —  puffe  Boreas. what  a  cloud  comes 

yonder? 

Take  heed  of  that  wave  Charon!  ha?  give  mee 

The  oares!  —  so  so:   the  boat  is  overthrown,     24 

Now  Charons  drown'd:  but  I  will  swim  to  shore 

Vra.      O  Ceres,  now  behold  him!  can  thy  eyes 

Looke  on  so  sad  an  object,  and  not  melt 

Them  and  thy  heart  to  pitty? 
Ama.  How  this  greefe 

Racks  my  tormented  soule!  but  the  neglect 

Of  Damon  more  afflicts  mee :  the  whole  Senate     30 

Of  heaven  decrees  my  ruine. 

(13)  sister?  Hellen    '52.  (22)  yonder  '52      yonder;  '68.  (29)  !]  ?  '38- 


AMYNTAS  269 

Vra.  And  mine  too. 

Come  Amaryllis  let's  weepe  both  together, 

Contending  in  our  sorrowes ! 
Ama.  Would  to  Ceres 

That  I  were  dead! 

Vra.  And  I  had  nere  been  borne! 

Ama.      Then  had  not  I  been  wretched!  35 

Vra.  Then  Amyntas 

Might  have  been  happy. 
Mop.  Nay  if  you  begin 

Once  to  talke  wisely,  'Tis  above  high  time, 

That  I  were  gone:  farewell  Belleropbon! 

I  must  goe  seek  my  Tbestylis;  shee's  not  here.   Exit. 
Amy.    My  armes  are  weary; now  I  sinke  I  sinke!  40 

Farewell  Vrania. 

Ama.  Alas  what  strange  distractions, 

Tosse  his  distemperd  braine! 
Vra.  Yet  still  his  love  to  me 

Lives  constant. 
Amy.  Styx  I  thank  thee!    That  curld  wave 

Hath  tos'd  mee  on  the  shore. come  Sysiphus. 

I'le  rowle  thy  stone  a  while:    mee  thinkes  this 
labour  45 

Doth  looke  like  Love!  does  it  not  so,  Tysiphone? 
Ama.       Mine  is  that  restlesse  toile. 
Amy.  Pst  so,  Erynnis? 

You  are  an  idle  huswife,  goe  and  spin 

At  poore  Ixions  wheele! 
Vra.  Amyntas. 

Amyn.  Ha? 

Am  I  known  here?  50 

(32)  both]  om.  '68.  (46)  so]  om.  '4ob,  ff. 

(41)  distraction  '38.  (47)  I'st]  Is't  '68. 


270  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Vra.  Amyntas,  deere  Amyntas.  — 

Amyn,         Who  calls  Amyntas?  beauteous  Proserpine? 

Tis  shee. Fair  Empresse  of  th'  Elysian  shades, 

Ceres  bright  daughter  intercede  for  mee, 

To  thy  incensed  mother:  prithee  bid  her 

Leave  talking  riddles,  with  thou  ? 
Vra.  How  shall  I      55 

Apply  myselfe  to  his  wild  passions? 
Ama.  Seeme  to  be 

What  he  conceives  you. 
Amy.  Queen  of  darknesse, 

Thou  supreme  Lady  of  eternall  night, 

Grant  my  petitions !  wilt  thou  beg  of  Ceres 

That  I  may  have  Vrania? 
Vra.  Tis  my  praier,  60 

And  shall  be  ever,  I  will  promise  thee 

Shee  shall  have  none  but  him. 

Amyn.  Thankes  Proserpine! 

Vra.          Come  sweet  Amyntas,  rest  thy  troubled  head 

Here  in  my  lap: Now  here  I  hold  at  once 

My  sorrow  and  my  comfort:  Nay  ly  still.  65 

Amyn.       I  will:   but  Proserpine 

Vra.  Nay,  good  Amyntas. 

Amy.         Should  Pluto  chance  to  spy  me,  would  not  hee 

Be  jealous  of  me? 
Vran.  No. 

Amy.  Tysiphone, 

Tell  not  Vrania  of  it,  least  she  feare 

I  am  in  love  with  Proserpine:  doe  not  Fury !         70 
Ama.          I  will  not. 
Vra.  Pray  ly  still ! 

(56)  ?]  !  '38.     (58)  Thouiupreme  '38. 

(61)  will]  om.  '68. 

(70)  Proserpina:  '40  b.  62,  '68. 


AMYNTAS  271 

Amy.  You  Proserpine , 

There  is  in  Sicilie  the  fairest  Virgin 
That  ever  blest  the  land,  that  ever  breath'd, 
Sweeter  then  Zephyrusl  didst  thou  never  heare 
Of  one  Vrania  ? 

Vr.  Yes. 

Amy.  This  poo  re  Vrania         75 

Loves  an  unfortunate  sheapheard,  one  that's  mad, 

Tysipbone, 

Canst  thou  believe  it?     Elegant  Vrania 
(I  cannot  speak  it  without  teares)  still  loves 
Amyntas,  the  distracted  mad  Amyntas. 

I'st  not  a  constant  Nymph? But  I  will  goe   80 

And  carry  all  Elysium  on  my  back, 
And  that  shall  be  her  joynture. 

Vra.  Good  Amyntas, 

Rest  here  a  while! 

Amy.  Why  weepe  you  Proserpine*. 

Vr.         Because  Vrania  weepes  to  see  Amyntas 
So  restlesse  and  unquiet. 

Does  shee  so?         85 
Then  I  will  ly  as  calme  as  doth  the  Sea, 
When  all  the  winds  are  lock'd  in  JEolus  jayle: 
I  will  not  move  a  haire,  not  let  a  nerve 

Or  Pulse  to  beat,  least  I  disturbe  her!     Hush, 

Shee  sleepes! 

Vra.  And  so  doe  you.  90 

Amy.  You  talk  too  loud, 

You'l  waken  my  Vrania'. 

Vra.  If  AmyntaSy 

Her  deere  Amyntas  would  but  take  his  rest, 
Vrania  could  not  want  it. 

(79)  dittracted  m«n,  mad  Amyntai.  *6z,  '68.  (85)  «hee»of  '38. 


272  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Amy.  •  Not  so  loud! 

Ama.        What  a  sad  paire  are  wee? 

Vra.  How  miserable  ? 

He  that  I  love  is  not! 

Ama.  And  he  that  I          95 

Doe  love,  loves  not;  or,  if  he  love,  not  mee. 
Vra.          I  have  undone  Amyntas\ 
Ama.  And  my  Damon 

Has  undone  me. 

Vr.  My  kindnesse  ruin'd  him. 

Ama.       But  his  unkindnesse,  me;  unhappy  me!         99 
Vra.         More  wretched  I,  for  Damon  has  his  reason, 

And  he  may  love. 
Ama.  But  does  not:  thy  Amyntas 

Returnes  thee  mutuall  love. 
Vra.  True,  Amaryllis, 

But  he  has  lost  his  reason;  mine  has  love, 

No  reason. 
Ama.  Mine  has  reason,  but  no  love. 

Omee! 
Vra.  My  Amaryllis,  how  thy  griefes  105 

Meete  full  with  mine  to  make  the  truest  story 

Of  perfect  sorrow  that  ere  eye  bedew*  d 

With  teares  of  Pitty! 
Ama.  Come  Vrania: 

Let's  sit  together  like  two  marble  monuments 

Of  ever  weeping  misery. no 

Enter  Damon. 


(94)  miserable!  '403,  '4Ob,  '52         .     '68. 

(95)  !  — ]  !  '4ob,  '52  .  '68. 
(101-2)         But  does  not  thy  Amyntas 

Returne  thee  mutual!  love?    *4ob,  ff. 
Enter  Damon."}  om.  *4Ob,  '52. 
(105)  griefe  '52. 


AMTNTAS  273 

Da.  Minds  in  love, 

Doe  count  their  daies  by  minutes,  measure  howres 
By  every  sand  that  drops  through  the  slow  glasse; 
And  for  each  vie  a  teare. 

Ama.  If  so,  my  Damon, 

How  many  times  hath  thy  unkindnesse  ruin'd 
Sad  Amaryllis*  every  frowne  is  mortall.  115 

Dam.         Ill   luck,  to  seeke  my   love  and    finde  my 
hate! 

Ama.         Be  not  so  cruell  to  mee !     Gentle  Damon, 

Accept  this  witnesse  of  my  love,  it  is 

The  story  of  poore  Echo,  that  for  love 

Of  her  Narcissus  pin'd  into  a  voice.  120 

Da.  Doe  thou  so  too! 

Ama.  Damon,  suppose  I  should, 

And  then  the  Gods  for  thy  contempt  of  mee 
Should  plague  thee  like  Narcissus. 

Da.  Amaryllis, 

They  cannot  doe  it:  I  have  fixt  my  love 
So  firme  on  my  Laurinda,  that  for  her  125 

I  e're  shall  hate  my  selfe. 

Ama.  — , Prithee  Love  accept  it, 

'Twas  wrought  by  mine  own  hand. 

Da.  For  that  I  hate  it! 

Vra.  Fy  Brother,  can  you  be  of  the  same  stock, 

Issue,  and  bloud  with  me,  and  yet  so  cruell  ? 

Da.  Nor  can  I,  sister,  dote  like  you  on  any        130 

That  is  the  cursed  brat  of  Lalage. 

Amy.         Saist  thou  so  Centaur  el 

Vra.  Good  Amyntas  hold, 

This  is  the  Sacred  Vally :  here  'tis  death, 
For  to  shed  human  blood. 

(127)  .]  om.  '38. 


274  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Da.  Still  idly  you  complaine 

To  crosse  mee,  Amaryllis,  but  in  vaine!  Exit.  135 

Ama.        O,  I  am  sick  to  death ! 

Amy.  What  a  brave  show 

The  monsters  braines  would  make ! 

(137)  G  ?  '38. 


SCEN.    5. 

Tbestylis.     Mopsus.     Amyntas. 
Amaryllis.     Frania. 

Ama.  My  griefe  o're  weighs  me! 

The.         How  fares  my  Amaryllis  ? 

Ama.  Like  a  Taper 

Allmost  burnt  out:   sometimes  all  a  darknesse, 
And  now  and  then  a  flash  or  two  of  comfort, 
But  soone  blown  out  againe.     Ah  Thfstylis,  5 

I  cannot  long  subsist.     For  thee  vaine  labour, 
Away!  I  hate  thee  cause  my  Damon  does, 
And  for  that  reason  too  I  hate  my  selfe, 
And  every  thing  but  him! 

Vra.  Come  my  sad  Partner, 

Poore  rivall  of  my  sorrowes:  Goe  with  mee          10 
Into  the  Temple;  Fie  intreat  my  Brother 
To  use  thee  kindly:  if  in  mee  it  lye, 
I'le  helpe  thee. 

Ama.  Doe  Vrania,  or  I  dye. 

Exeunt  Frania,  Amaryl. 
Amyntas.     Tbestylis.     Mopsus. 

The.        What  a  strange  thing  is  Love! 

(6)  vain's  labour  '403  subsist;  for  the  vaine  *4Ob,  ff 

(7)  thee]  the  *4ob,  '52. 


AMTNTAS  275 

Amy.  It  is  a  madnesse: 

See  how   it  stares. Have  at  thee  thou  blind 

Archer!  15 

O  I  have  mist  him! now  Tie  stand  thee 

Cupidl 

Looke  how  the  rascall  winkes  a  one  eye,  Tbestylis\ 

Nay  draw  your  arrow  home  boy!  just  i'th  heart! 

—  O  I  am  slaine! 
The st.  Amyntas. 

Amy.  Dost  not  see? 

My  blood  runs  round  about  mee,  I  lye  soaking    20 

In  a  red  Sea,  take  heed!  see  Thtstylis, 

What  a  fine  Crimson  'tis? 
Mop.  Where? 

Amy.  Here  you  puppet! 

Dost  thou  not  see  it? 
Mop.  Yes  I  see  it  playne, 

But  I  spy  nothing. 

Amy.  Then  thou  art  a  mole. 

Mop.       Now  I  looke  better  on't,  I  seeitplaine;  25 

Does  it  not  hurt  you  ? 
Amy.  Strangely!    Have  at  thee 

How  think  you  now? 

The.  Be  quiet  good  Amyntas. 

Mop.    You'l  fright  away  the  birds  else,  and  clean  spoile 

My  augury. 

Amyn.  Goe  about  it,  I  am  quiet! 

Mop.      Now  for  some  happy  Omen,     a  Cuckoe  Cries. 
Amy.  Ha,  ha,  he!     30 

Mop.       Why  laughs  the  madman  ? 
Amy.  Who  can  choose  but  laugh  ? 

The  bird  cried  Homes! 

(16)  thee]  the  '^b,  '52.  (18)  Nay]  May.  '5* 

(17)  a]  with  '68.  (20)  round]  down  '5*. 


276  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

The.  What  happinesse  portends  it, 

Sweet  Mopsus? 
Mop.  Constancy  in  Love,  my  Thestylis, 

This  bird  is  alwaies  in  a  note. 

The.  Most  excellent. 

Mop.       Bird  of  the  spring    I   thank   thee!     Mopsus 
thanks  thee.  35 

Amy.      This  is  a  man  of  skill,  an  Oedipus, 

Apollo,  Reverend  Phoebus,  Don  of  Delphos. 
Mop.      What  a  brave  man  am  I  ? 
Amy.  Thou  canst  resolve 

By  thy  great  Art  all  questions:  What  is  that, 

That  which  I  have  not,  may  not,  cannot  have  ?      40 
Mop.      That  which  you  have  not,  may  not,  cannot 
have? 

It  is  my  skill,  you  cannot  have  my  skill. 
Amy.       Where  lies  that  skill? 

Mop.  Lies?  here  within  this  noddle. 

Amy.       Fetch  me  my  wood-knife  I  will  cut  it  off, 

And  send  it  to  Vrania  for  a  dowry.  45 

Mop.       No,  no  I  am  deceiv'd,  it  is  not  that. 
Amy.      You  dolt,  you  asse,  youcockoe: 
Mop.  Good  Amyntas. 

(37)  Reverent  '38,  '408.  (38)  ?]  !  '68. 

(43)  'Lies  here  within  *4ob,  '52,  '62  'Lies  within  '68. 

SCEN.    6. 

Dorylas.    Mopsus.    locastus.     Tbestylis.    Amyntas. 

lo.         1st  not  a  brave  sight  Dorylas^  can  the  mortalls 

Caper  so  nimbly  ? 
Dor.  Verily  they  cannot! 

(2)    ?]  !  '38. 


AMYNTAS  277 

Io.         Does  not  King  Oberon  beare  a  stately  presence? 

Mab  is  a  beauteous  Empresse. 
Do.  Yet  you  kiss'd  her 

With  admirable  courtship.  5 

Io.  I  doe  think 

There  will  be  of  locastus  brood  in  Fairy. 
Mop.     You  Cuckold-maker,  I  will  tell  King  Oberon 

You  lye  with  Mab  his  wife! 
Io.  Doe  not  good  brother, 

And  I'le  wooe  Tbestylis  for  thee. 

Doe  so  then. 

Io.          Canst  thou  love  Mopsus,  mortall?  10 

The.  Why  suppose 

I  can  sir,  what  of  that? 
Io.  Why  then  be  wise, 

And  love  him  quickly! 
Mop.     Wise?  then  I'le  have  none  of  her,  that's  the  way 

To  get  wise  children,  'troth  and  I  had  rather 

They  should  be  bastards.  15 

Amy.  No,  the  children  may 

Be  like  the  Father. 
Io.  True  distracted  Mortall: 

Thestylis,  I  say  love  him  hee's  a  foole. 
Dor.     But  we  will  make  him  rich,  then  'tis  no  matter. 
The.     But  what  estate  shall  he  assure  upon  mee? 
Io.       A  Royall  joynture  all  in  Fairy  land.  20 

Amy.  Such  will  I  make  Vrania! 
Io.  Dorylas  knows  it, 

A  curious  Parke. 

Dor.  Pal'd  round  about  with  Pick-teeth. 

Io.       Besides  a  house  made  all  of  mother  of  Pearle; 

An  Ivory  Teniscourt. 
Dor.  A  nutmeg  Parlour. 


278  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Io.        A  saphyre  dary-roome. 

Do.  A  Ginger  hall.  25 

Io.       Chambers  of  Agate. 

Do.  Kitchins  of  all  Chrystall. 

Am.     O  admirable!    This  is  it  for  certaine! 

Io.       The  jacks  are  gold. 

Do.  The  spits  are  Spanish  needles. 

Io.       Then  there  be  walkes. 

Do.  Of  Amber. 

Io.  Curious  orchards. 

Do.      That  bear  as  well  in  winter  as  in  summer.         30 

Io.       Bove  all  the  fishponds!  every  pond  is  full, 

Do.      Of  Nectar:  will  this  please  you  ?  every  grove 

Stor'd  with  delightfull  birds. 
Mop.  But  be  there  any 

Lady-birds  there? 

Io.  Abundance. 

Mop.  And  Cuckoes  too 

To  presage  constancy?  35 

Do.  Yes. 

The.  Nay  then  lets  in 

To  scale  the  writings. 

Amy.  There  boy,  so,  ho,  ho.     Exeunt. 

Do.       What  pretty  things  are  these  both  to  be  borne 

To  Lands  and  Livings,  we  poore  witty  knaves, 

Have  no  inheritance  but  Braines: who's  this? 

Enter  Alexis. 

One  of  my  Mistresse  beagles.  40 

Ale.  Dorylas, 

I  have  had  the  bravest  sport. 

(25)  dary-roome]  dining-room  '68.  (36)  so,  ho,  ho,  ho.     '4Ob,  ff. 

(29)  walkes  '38.  (38)  Livings!  *4ob,  ff. 

(34)  ?]  •  '38. 


AMTNTAS  279 

Do.  In  what,  Alexis* 

Al.      In   hunting,   Dory  las:   a   brace   of  Grayhounds 
cours'd  a  stag 

With  equall  swiftnesse  till  the  wearied  deere, 

Stood  bay  at  both  alike:   the  fearfull  doggs 

Durst  neither  fasten. 
Do.  So,  and  did  not  you  45 

Compare  the  stag  to  my  fair  mistresse?  ha! 

Persued  by  you  and  Damon,  caught  by  neither? 
Ale.         By  Cupid  th'art  i'th  right. 
Dor.  Alas  poore  whelpes, 

In  troth  I  pitty  you!    Why  such  a  hunting 

Have  we  had  here:  Two  puppies  of  a  litter,         50 

Mopsus  and  wise  locastus  hunting  folly 

With  a  full  mouth. 
Alex.  I  much  wonder,  Dorylas, 

Amyntas  can  be  sad,  having  such  follies 

To  provoke  mirth. 
Do.  And  to  that  end  his  sister 

Keepes  them  about  him;   but  in  vaine,  his  Melan- 
choly 55 

Has  took  so  deepe  impression. 
Enter  Damon. 
Da.  My  Alexis 

Well  met,  I'ave  been  at  your  cottage  to  seeke  you. 
Alex.       But  I  am  ne're  at  home;  Thou  and  I,  Damon, 

Are  absent  from  our  selves. 
Do.  Excellent  application! 

To  see  the  wit  of  love! 
Da.  Let  us  goe  seeke  her,       60 

To  have  a  finall  judgement. 

(56)  so]  such  '403,  ff. 
(56)  Altxisl  '40a,b  S. 


280  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Alex.  That  may  end 

One  of  our  miseries,  and  the  others  life! 
Do.        O  lamentable!  who  would  be  in  love? 
Da.        Content. 


SCEN.    7. 

Laurinda.     Dorylas.     Alexis.     Damon. 

Da.         Here  comes  my  joy  or  death. 

Do.  O  pittifull! 

Al.       My  sweet  affliction. 

Do.  Pitifully  sweet! 

Nere  feare  your  father,  Mistresse,  kisse  securely, 

I'le  be  your  Mercury,  and  charme  a  sleepe 

Old  Argus. 

Lau.  Doe. 

Do.  But  if  he  chance  to  spy         5 

You  and  your  sweet-hearts  here,  I  know  not  of  it. 
Lau.      You  doe  not! 
Do.  Nay  you  know  if  I  had  seene  them, 

I  should  have  told  him. 

Lau.  Y'are  a  trusty  servant. 

Do.       Poore  Dorylas  is  blind,  he  sees  not  here 

Damon,  no  nor  Alexis. 

Lau.  No  not  hee!  10 

Do.       Alack  I  am  innocent:  if  the  belly  swell 

I  did  not  fetch  the  poison. 

Lau.  No,  begone.     Exit  Dorylas. 

Da.       Laurinda  now  for  mercy  sake  give  period 

To  our  long  miseries. 

(8)  I  should  have  told  him.]  om.  '64,  '68.  (13)  mercies  '64,  '68. 

(9)  here.  '4ob.  (14)  You  now  are  like  '68. 

(10)  Damon.     No  nor  '4ob. 


AMTNTAS  28l 

Alex.  Now  you  are  like  cruel 

To  both,  and  play  the  tyrant  equally,  15 

On  him  you  hate  as  much  as  him  you  love. 
Da.         Depriving  one  the  comfort  of  his  joy. 
Ale.        The  other  the  sure  remedy  of  his  death! 
Lau.       Damon  you  have  a  Love,  fair  Amaryllis, 

Content  your  selfe  with  her.  20 

Da.  Fie  rather  kisse 

An  Etbiops  crisped  lip:  imbrace  a  Viper! 

Deformity  it  selfe  to  her  is  fair. 
Al.        Damon  thou  hast  thy  answer. 
Lau.  And  Alexis, 

There  be  in  Sicilie  many  Virgins  more  24 

Worthy  your  choice:  why  did  you  plac't  on  mee? 

Goe  seeke  some  other. 
Alex.  O  those  words  to  me 

Are  Poyson. 

Da.  But  to  me  an  Antidote. 

Al.        Thus  she  gave  life  to  me  to  tak't  away: 
Da.        And  me  she  slew  to  raise  me  up  againe: 

You  shall  not  slight  us  thus,  what  doe  you  thinke  30 

Of  mee  ? 

Lau.  Thou  art  the  glory  of  the  woods. 

Alex.       And  what  am  I  ? 

Lau.  The  pride  of  all  the  Plaines. 

Ale.         These  your  ambiguous  termes  have  now  too  oft 

Deluded  us. 
Da.  Shew  by  some  sign  which  of  us 

You  have  design'd  for  happinesse.  35 

Lau.  So  I  will. 

Sbee  takes  Damon  s  Garland  and  weares  it  on  her 
own  bead:   and  puts  her  own  on  Alexis. 

(16)  as  him]  as  on  him  '52.  (26)  O]  om.  '52. 


282  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Damon,  as  I  affect  thee,  so  I  vow 
To  wear  this  Garland  that  adornes  thy  brow: 
This  wreath  of  flowres,  Alexis,  which  was  mine 
Because  thou  lov'st  me  truly,  shall  be  thine. 
This  is  plain  dealing;  let  not  Cupid's  warres         40 
Drive  your  affections  to  uncivill  jarres!        Exit. 

Da.          Now  happy  Damon,  shee  thy  Garland  weares 
That  holds  thy  heart  chain'd  in  her  golden  haires! 

Alex.       Most  blessed  I !  this  Garland  once  did  twine 
About  her  head,  that  now  imbraces  mine.  45 

Dam.       Desist  Alexis,  for  she  deignes  to  have 
The  Garland  that  was  mine. 

Alex.  But  me  she  gave 

That  which  was  hers. 

Da.  Tis  more  to  take  then  give. 

Alex.       I  think  'tis  greater  kindnesse  to  receive.          49 

Da.          By  this  your  share's  the  lesse,  you  but  receive. 

Al.          And  by  your  argument,  yours  you  did  but  give! 
Love  is  the  Garland. 

Da.  Then  shee  did  approve 

Of  my  affection  best,  shee  took  my  love. 

Ale.          Fond  Damon,  she  accepted  love  from  thee, 
But  what  is  more,  she  gave  her  love  to  mee;         55 
In  giving  that  to  mee,  she  proves  my  right. 

Da.          Why  took  she  mine,  but  meaning  to  requite? 

Alex.        I  will  dispute  no  more. 

Da.  Then  let  our  speares 

Plead  for  us, 

Alex.  And  determine  of  our  feares. 

Come  Damon,  by  this  argument  let  us  prove,        60 
Which  tis  of  us  Laurinda  best  doth  love. 

Da.          Yet  tis,  Alexis,  clean  against  our  oath. 

(46)  designs  '68.  (58)  spheares  '52 


AMTNTAS  283 

Alex.        True,  Damon,  and  perchance  may  ruine  both! 

Da.          So  neither  shall  enjoy  her. 

Ale.  Cruell  breath! 

Besides  this  is  the  Sacred  Vale,  tis  death  65 

To  staine  the  hallowed  grasse  but  with  one  drop 
Of  humane  blood. 

Da.  So  both  should  loose  their  hope! 

Ale.         And  what  is  more,  'tis  against  her  commands. 

Da.          Whose  every  breath  has  powre  to  stay  our 
hands. 

Ale.         Wee'l  have  her  answer  make  a  certain  end. 

Da.          Till  then,  Alexis,  let  me  be  thy  friend. 

Ale.         Come  Damon,  lets  together  seeke  reliefe. 

Da.          Tis  fit,  being  Rivalls  both  in  love  and  griefe. 

Finis  Actus  secundi. 


ACTVS    3.      SCEN    I. 

Damon.     Alexis.     Laurinda. 

Dam.  Aurinda,  by  thy  selfe,  the  sweetest  oath 

J— ^That  can  be  sworn, 
Ale.  By  those  faire  eyes,  whose  light 

Comforts  my  soule; 

Dam.  Whose  heat  inflameth  mine; 

Ale.         Vnlesse  you  deigne  at  length  to  end  our  strife, 
Da.          We  both  have  vow'd  to  sacrifice  our  life,         5 
Ale.         On  one  anothers  speare. 
Lau.  What  shall  I  doe? 

I  find  an  equall  warre  within  my  soule, 

My  selfe  divided;  now  I  would  say  Damon, 

Another  time  Alexis,  then  againe 

(2)  sworn, '400,  &•  (3)  comfort  '38. 


284  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Damon,  and  then  Alexis:  like  a  sheapheard          10 

That  sees  on  either  hand  a  ravenous  wolfe, 

One  snatching  from  his  ewe  a  tender  Lamb, 

The  other  watching  for  a  gentle  Kid, 

Knowes  not  poore  soule  which  hand  to  turne  to  first. 

Now  he  would  save  his  Lamb;  but  seeing  his  Kid  15 

Halfe  in  the  jaw  of  death,  turnes  back  in  hast 

To  rescue  that,  where  viewing  then  his  Lamb 

In  greater  danger,  runs  to  that  again; 

As  doubtfull  which  to  save  as  which  to  loose: 

So  fares  it  now  with  me.     But  love  instruct  mee !  20 

Da.  Resolve. 

Ale.  Or  wee'l  resolve. 

Lau.  No  trick  left  yet? 

Enter  Dorylas. 

Dor.         If  ever  one  was  pepper' d  looke  on  mee! 

Lau.        Why  whats  the  matter? 

Do.  You  talke  of  Love  and  Cupid, 

I  have  been  plagu'd  with  a  whole  swarme  of  Cupids 

Ale.         What  should  this  meane  ?  25 

Do.  I  know  not,  but  I  am  sure 

I  have  a  thousand  naturall  rapiers 
Stick  in  my  flesh! 

Da.  The  meaning  of  the  riddle? 

Ale.         The  morall  ? 

Do.  In  plain  tearmes  I  have  been  driving 

One  of  your  swarmes  of  Bees,  gentle  Laurinda; 

Lau.        The   purest   waxe   give   Damon:    and,   good 
swaine,  30 

The  hony  to  Alexis:  This  is  plain. 

Do.  Now  will  the  hony  and  the  wax  fall  together  by 

th'  eares. 

(24)  whole]  om.  '68.  (25)  What]  what  '38. 


A  MT NT  AS  285 

Da.          Alexis,  this  plain  signe  confirmes  her  grant, 

She  gave  me  waxe  to  scale  the  covenant. 
Do.  Well  argu'd  for  the  waxe,  now  for  the  hony.  35 

Ale.         To  me  she  gave  the  hony,  that  must  be 

The  sweetest,  and  the  sweetest  sweet  is  shee. 
Do.  The  hony  is  the  sweeter  argument. 

Da.          But  by  the  waxe  she  saies  that  she  from  none 

But  mee  will  take  true  loves  impression.  40 

Do.          The  waxe  is  very  forward  to  the  bargain; 

He  would  be  sealing  of  her. 
Ale.          But  plain  the  hony  speakes,  no  other  guest 

But  I,  shall  tast  in  her  a  lovers  feast. 
Do.  Delicious  reason,  my  mouth  waters  at  it,       45 

Dam.       The  waxe  must  make  the  Taper  that  must 
light 

The  wedded  paire  to  bed  on  Hymens  night: 

Besides  'tis  virgins  waxe,  by  that  you  see 

To  me  she  destines  her  virginity. 

Do.          Two    excellent    twin-arguments    borne    at    a 

birth.  50 

Ale.         And  hony  shewes  a  wedding;  that  must  knead 

A  cake  for  Hymen  ere  we  goe  to  bed. 

Take  you  the  waxe,  the  hony  is  for  mee; 

There  is  no  hony  in  the  world  but  shee. 
Dor.      His  disputation  still  has  some  good  relish  in't.  55 
Da.        I  see,  Alexis,  all  Laurinda's  bees 

Serve  but  to  sting  us  both. 
Dor.  Now,  whats  the  matter? 

The  morall? 
Lau.  See  what  'tis  to  live  a  maid! 

Now  two  at  once  doe  serve  us  and  adore, 

Shee  that  weds  one,  serves  him,  serv'd  her  before.  60 

(38)  «weete«t  '52.  ff.  (44)  tart]  take  'St. 


286  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Da.          Alexis  come! 

AL  Come  Damonl 

Da.  Cure  my  feare. 

AL  There's  no  helpe  left  but  in  a  Pelian  speare! 

Lau.        O  stay  your  hands,  for  by  my  maidenhead 

Dor.         Happy  the  man  shall  quit  her  of  that  oath. 
Ale.          Most  happy  Dorylasl  65 

Do.  I  knew  that  before! 

Lau.         I  have  protested  never  to  disclose 

Which  'tis  that  best  I  love:   But  the  first  Nymph, 
As  soone  as  Titan  guilds  the  Easterne  hills, 
And  chirping  birds,  the  Saints-bell  of  the  day, 
Ring  in  our  eares  a  warning  to  devotion,  70 

That  lucky  damsell  what  so  e're  she  be 
Shall  be  the  Goddesse  to  appoint  my  love, 
To  say,  Laurinda  this  shall  be  your  choice: 
And  both  shall  sweare  to  stand  to  her  award! 
Both.        By  fair  Laurinda' s  hand  we  swear.  75 

Lau.  Till  then 

Be  friends,  and  for  this  night  it  is  my  pleasure 
You  sleep  like  friendly  Rivalls  arme  in  arme. 
Both.        Thankes  to  the  fair  Laurindal 
AL  Come  Damon,  you  this  night  with  me  shall 

rest. 

Da.          Wert  thou  but  my  Laurinda  I  were  blest.     80 

Exeunt  Damon.     Alexis. 

Dor.         Mistresse,  if  they  should  dreame  now. 

Lau.  And  they  should? 

(74)  on  her  '403,  ff. 


AMYNTAS  287 

ScEN.   2. 
Amaryllis.     Vrania.     Doryllis.     Laurinda. 

Vra.         Sweet  Amaryllis  \ 

Ama.  Stay  me  not  Vrania\ 

Do.          More  Cupids,  more  bees,  more  stinging  yet! 

Ama.       Dishevel'd  haire,  poore  ornament  of  the  head 
I'le  teare  you  from  my  crowne !  what  dost  thou  here  ? 
Weake  chaines!  my  pride  presum'd  you  had   a 
powre  5 

To  fetter  Heroes !  and  in  amorous  Gives 
Lead  any  sheapheard  captive! 

Vra.  Amaryllis. 

Ama.       But  Damon  breakes  thee  like  a  spiders  loome! 
And  thou  poore  face  that  wer't  so  oft  beli'de 
For  fair  and  beauteous,  by  my  flattering  glasse;     10 
I'le  tear  those  crimson  roses  from  my  cheekes, 
That  but  my  selfe  nere  yet  inchanted  any. 
My  will  is  fixt! 

Lau.  Where  goe  you,  Amaryllis? 

Ama.        Since  Damon  hates  my  life  I'le  goe  and  see    14 
If  I  can  please  him  in  my  death:    if  hee'le  but 

deigne 

To  kisse  me,  and  accept  my  latest  breath, 
I  shall  salute  the  Gods  a  happy  soule. 

This  dart  I'le  give  him;  and  upon  my  knees 

Beg  till  I  have  obtain'd  to  dye  by  him: 

Death  from  that  hand  is  welcome.  20 

Lau.  I  will  shew  you 

A  way  most  probable  to  redeeme  his  love. 

(II)  my]  thy '68. 

(19)  dye]  om.  *4ob  to  dye  by]  it  too  by  '68. 


288  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Ama.       I  shall  wrong  you,  Laurinda\    No  injoy  him, 
The  treasure  of  the  Earth:  my  latest  words 
Shall  be  praiers  for  you :  mild  Vrania, 
Sister  in  blood  to  Damon,  not  in  affection,  25 

Nymph  take  this  whistle,  'twas  a  Tritons  once, 
With  which  I  call  my  Lamb-kins  when  they  stray; 
JTis  Amaryllis  last  bequeathment  to  you. 

Vra.         Live  happy  sheapheardesse  and  weare  it  still! 

Ama.       Laurinda,  my  great  legacy  is  yours,  30 

Gentle-ungentle  Damon. 

Lau.         I  re-bequeath  him  to  my  Amaryllis: 

Come  therefore  amorous  maid,  be  rul'd  by  mee; 
This  night  wee'le  sleepe  together. 

Do.  And  shee  too 

Should  dreame  of  Damon. '  35 

Lau.  Dorylas,  goe  to  Thestylis 
T* excuse  her  this  nights  absence.     Amaryllis 
Wenches  are  nere  so  witty  as  a  bed, 
And  two  together  make  a  statesmans  head. 
Begon  to  Thestylis. 

Do.  So,  I  am  sure 

Still  Cupids  factor:  well  ere  long  I  see  40 

There  will  be  many  an  heire  the  more  for  mee. 

Vra.         My  Bellamore  y'are  under  good  protection; 
The  Temple  gates  will  close  unlesse  I  hast. 

Lau.         Vrania,  a  happy  night  unto  you! 

Vra.         The  like  to  her  that  pitties  the  distressed 
Amaryllis.  45 

Exeunt  Lau.  Ama.  Vrania. 

Dor.         So  so,  this  hony  with  the  very  thought 
Has  made  my  mouth  so  lickorish  that  I  must 
Have  something  to  appease  the  appetite. 

(30)  is]  in  'S2.  (33)  ;]  ?  '68.  (36)  .]  ,  '38. 


AMYNTAS  289 

Have  at  locastus  orchard !  dainty  Apples, 
How  lovely  they  looke!     Why  these  are  Dory  las 
sweet-hearts.  50 

Now  must  I  be  the  Princely  Oberon, 
And  in  a  royall  humour  with  the  rest 
Of  royall  Fairies  attendant  goe  in  state 
To  rob  an  orchard:   I  have  hid  my  robes 
On  purpose  in  a  hollow  tree.     Heaven  blesse  meeiss 
What  Pucke,  what  Goblins  this? 
Claius.     Dorylas. 

Cla.  Thrice  Sacred  Valley, 

I  kisse  thy  hallowed  Earth! 

Do.  Another  lover, 

Enamour'd  of  the  Ground! 

Cl.  Faine  would  I  speake 

And  aske  for  Amaryllis:  but  my  feare 
Will  not  permit  mee.  60 

Do.  Slid;  I  thinke  he  takes  mee 

For  Oberon  already. 

Cl.  Youth  can  you  tell  mee 

How  I  may  speak  to  night  with  Amaryllis? 

Da.          Age,  by  no  meanes  to  night:  this  night  shee 

lodges 
With  fair  Laurinda,  old  Medorus  daughter. 

Cl.  Can  you  instruct  me  then  how  I  may  meet  65 

Amyntas? 

Do.  Who,  the  madman  ?     Every  evening 

He  walkes  abroad  into  the  vallie  here 
With  Tbestylis.     Farewell  old  walking  Ivibush. 

Exit  Dor. 
Claius  solus. 

(•56)  Claius.    Dorylas.    One  line  higher  up  in  40*.  ff. 
(60)  S'lid  '403,  ff. 


290  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Cla.        I  see  the  smoake  steame  from  the  Cottage  tops, 
The  fearfull  huswife  rakes  the  embers  up.  70 

All  hush  to  bed.     Sure  no  man  will  disturbe  mee. 

0  blessed  vally !     I  the  wretched  Claius 
Salute  thy  happy  soyle,  I  that  have  liv'd 
Pelted  with  angry  curses  in  a  place 

As  horrid  as  mygriefes,theLylibaean  mountaines,  75 
These  sixteene  frozen  winters,  there  have  I 
Beene  with  rude  out-lawes,  living  by  such  sinnes 
As  runne  o'  th'  score  with  justice,  'gainst  my  prayers 

&  wishes. 

And  when  I  would  have  tumbled  down  a  rock, 
Some  secret  powre  restrain'd  me:   There  I  lately 

heard  80 

By  a  disconsolate  Pilgrim  that  sought  death, 
That  my  Amyntas  wits  (ah  me!)  were  marr'd. 
Twas  not  a  time  to  thinke  to  save  my  selfe 
When  my  poore  boy  was  lost.     Lost  said  I  ?  —  O 

Phoebus, 

If  there  be  soveraigne  power  in  juice  of  hearbs,      85 
And  that  the  teeming  earth  yeeld  medicinal  flowres 
To  cure  all  maladies,  I  have  sought  the  skill; 
No  leafe  no  root  hath  scap'd  mee:  I  may  boast  it, 

1  have  been  natures  diligent  Apothecary. 

Be  lucky  my  emplaister!     I  have  tempered  90 

The  surest  Recipe  the  worlds  garden  yeelds; 

'Twould  put  Orestes  in  his  wits  again. 

I  know  I  step  upon  my  death:  the  Oracle 

Desires  my  blood  for  sacrifice,  and  Pilumnus 

For  his  old  hate  still  seekes  it:  make  long  stay       95 

I  dare  not,  only  I  desire  t'apply 

My  medicine  and  be  gone.     Who's  this  I  spy? 

(7S)  Libyan  '62,  '68.  (82)  ah]  ha  '4ob,  ff.  (91)  Receipt  '52. 


AMYNTAS  291 

SCEN.  3. 
Tbestylis.     Amyntas.     Mopsus. 

I  doe  remember  now  that  countenance; 

It  is  my  sister  Tbestylis,  Tie  stand  close 

T'observe  their  actions. 
The.  Would  to  Ceres 

She  would  be  pleas'd  at  length  to  end  her  anger, 

And  pitty  poo  re  Amyntas\ 

Cl.  So  pray  I.  5 

Amy.       I  have  the  bravest  spaniell  in  the  world, 

Of  a  sharpe  sent  and  quick,     so  ho  ho,  so  ho  ho! 

Ringwood,  lowler,  White/oof,  so  ho  ho!  so  ho  ho! 
Mop.       I  shall  be  a  whole  kennell  of  dogs  anon. 
Amy.       Juno,  Vulcan,  Venus!  so  ho  ho,  so  ho  ho!      10 
Mop.       Lord  what  a  heavenly  puppy  he  makes  me 

now! 

Amy.       There  Lady  there! 
Mop.       Ha?  be  there  Lady-dogs  as  well  as  Lady-birds 

too? 

Amy.       Beauty,  Beauty. 
Mop.       Slid  I  was  never  cal'd  that  name  before:         15 

Thestylis,  Amyntas  calls  me  Beauty, 

I  prethee  come  kisse  mee. 
The.  Thus  I  spend  my  life 

Laughing  amidst  my  teares. 

(7)  so  ho  ho!  so  ho  ho  ho!  '62,  "68. 

(8)  so  ho  ho!  so  ho  ho  ho!  '62,  '68. 

(12-14)  These  lines  are  so  divided  in  all  the  texts  but  they  may  be  arranged: 

Amy.  There  Lady  there! 

Mop.  Ha?  be  there  Lady-dogs 

As  well  as  Lady-birds  too? 

Amy.  Beauty.     Beauty. 

(13)  too!  '38.  (is)  S'lid  '403,  ff. 


292  THOM4S  RANDOLPH 

Amy.  Now  Vertue  Venue! 

Mop.       Is  that  a  dog's  name  too?  would  I  were  hang'd 

If  Tie  have  any  of  it  for  that  trick.  20 

Amy.       Dost  thou  not  sent  it  yet?     Close,  close  you 


rogue 


By  Pan  the  curre  hunts  counter. 

Mop.       Oh  good  master!  Bow  wow,  bow  wow  wow 

Amyn.     So  now  he  has't  again. 

What  at  a  fault  you  mungrell?  will  you  never      25 

Start  me  this  Oracle? 
Mop.  Start  an  Oracle? 

As  if  an  Oracle  were  a  hare? 
Amy.  So  'tis 

And  skuds  away  so  swift  we  cannot  take  it. 

Start  me  this  Oracle. 
Mop.  Start  it  who's  will  for  mee, 

For  Tie  not  start  it. 

Amy.  Then  unkennell  it.  30 

Mop.       Vnkennell  it? 
Amy.  I,  tis  a  Foxe  a  Foxe, 

A  cunning  crafty  rogue:  no  body  knowes 

Which  way  to  finde  him.     Ha?  what  sent  is  this? 

Dost  thou  not  smell  ? 
Mop.  What? 

Amy.  The  meaning  of  the  Oracle  ? 

Vnkennell  it,  or  I  will  lease  thee.  35 

(22-24)  These  lines  may  be  arranged. 

By  Pan  the  curre  hunts  counter. 
Mop.  Oh  good  master! 

Bow  wow,  bow  wow  wow 

Amyn.  So  now  he  has't  again. 

(29)  who's]  who  '62,  '68. 

(33)  ha?  '38         sent]  on.  '68. 

(34)  Oracle.  '4ob,  ff. 

(35)  leashe  '403  lashe  '4ob,  '52          lash  '62,  '68. 


AMYNTAS  293 

Mop.  Good  sir, 

I  have  no  skill  in  starting  or  unkennelling, 

But  if  you'l  have  me  spring  an  Oracle. 

Amy.       And  wilt  thou  doe  it?  spring  me  then   this 

Oracle! 
Mop.        I  that  I  will,  my  skill  lies  all  in  birds, 

Whose  flight  I  feare  I  have  observ'd  so  long         40 

That  I  am  metamorphos'd  to  a  spaniell. 
Amy.       Looke  how  my  hawke  of  understanding  soares 

About  the  Partridge  Oracle! ill  luck! 

Tis  at  retreat  againe. 
Mop.  O  shall  I  never 

Rid  me  of  this  misfortune!  (thankes  good  omen)  45 

Cras,  eras  she  saies,  to  morrow  'twill  be  better. 

A  Crow  cawes. 

Black  bird  I  thank  thee! 

Claius  to  them. 
The.         Litle  thinks  the  wretched  Claius  now 

How  sad  a  life  his  poore  Amyntas  lives! 

Cl.  Too  well  unto  his  griefe. Tie  goe  unto 

him  50 

And  follow  him  in  his  humor:  —  You  have  got 

A  dainty  spanniell,  sir. 
Amy.  I  think  the  world 

Cannot  afford  his  equall. 

Cla.  What  breed  is  hee? 

Amy.       True  Spartan  Tie  assure  you. 
Cl.  Was  the  sire 

Of  the  same  Country?  55 

Amy.  No,  as  I  remember 

He  was  an  Irish  Grey-hound,  but  the  damme 

Came  of  Actions  brood. 

(44)  »O  a  '4ob,  '52. 


294  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Cl.  As  how  I  pray? 

Amy.       Why  thus;  Melampus  was  the  sire  of  Lalaps, 
Lalaps  to  Lagon,  Lagon  to  Ichnobates, 
Ichnobates  to  Pampbagus,  and  Pamphagus  60 

To  Dorceus,  he  to  Labros,  that  was  sire 
To  Oresitrophus,  Oresitrophus 
To  fleet  Tberidamas,  Tberidamas 
To  swift  Nebrophonos,  Nebropbonos 
To  the  quick-nos'd  Aellus;  he  to  Dramas,  65 

Dramas  to  Tygris,  Tygris  to  Orybasus, 
Orybasus  to  Pterelas,  he  to  Nape, 
The  damme  of  Mopsus. 

Mop.  So  then  Orybasus 

Was  my  great  grandfather.     Though  I  be  a  Dog, 

I  come  of  a  good  house.     My  Ancestors  70 

Were  all  of  Noble  names  past  understanding. 

What  a  brave  man's  my  Master!  where  learn'd  he 

All  this?  Ne're  stirre  now  I  could  find  in  my  heart 

To  leave  my  Augury  and  study  Heraldry; 

A  man  I  think  may  learn't  as  well  as  t'other,       75 

Yet  never  fear  of  growing  too  wise  upon't. 

And  then  will  I  record  the  pedigree 

Of  all  the  dogs  i'th'world.     O  that  I  had 

The  Armes  of  all  our  house  by  th'Mothers  side! 

Cl.  Sir  I  have  brave  things  in  a  Basket  for  you.  80 

Give  me  your  Dog,  and  you  shall  have  'em  all. 

Amy.       Take  him. 

Mop.  O  heavens!  and  shall  I  change  my  master, 

One  mad  man  for  another? 

Amy.  Curre  be  quiet, 

I  have  said  it,  and  my  will  shall  be  a  law. 

(58  and  59)  Lelaps  '40*.  S.  (79)  byth*  '38. 

(59  and  60)  Ichonbatts  '4ob,  '52,  '62. 


AMTNTAS  295 

Mop.        O  good  sir,  for  Melampus  sake,  and  Dorceus    85 

Leelaps,  Ichnobates,  Lagon,  Mflanchetes, 

Labros,  Nebrophonos,  Oresitrophus, 

Tygris,  Orybasus,  Therydamas, 

Afllus,  Dromas,  Nape,  and  the  rest 

Of  all  my  Noble  ancestors  deceas'd,  90 

Be  mercifull  unto  me!     Pitty  pitty 

The  only  hope  of  all  our  family. 
CL  Sir,  can  he  fetch  and  carry? 

Amy.  You  shall  see  him. 

Fetch   sirrah: there: the  curre  is  runne, 

away, 

Help  me  to  catch  my  dog:  you'l  bring  you  mun- 
grell?  95 

Mop.       Yes  much!  the  birds  will  not  advise  me  to  it. 

Exit. 
The.         Sylvan  why  gaze  you  on  us?  would  you  frolike 

With  poor  Amynta's  madnes?  'twould  ill  beseem 
you 

To  make  our  griefe  your  pastime. 
CL  Not  I  by  heaven! 

My  joyes  are  counterfeit,  my  sorrowes  reall :         100 

(I  cannot  hold  from  weeping)  ah  you  know  not 

What  griefe  lies  here  within,  (teares  you'l  betray 
me!) 

Give  me  my  eye  full  of  this  noble  sheapheard ! 

Who  hath  not  heard  how  he  hath  chac'd  the  boare? 

And  how  his  speare  hath  torne  the  panch  of  wolves. 

On  th'  barke  of  every  tree  his  name's  ingraven.  106 

Now  Planet  struck,  and  all  that  vertue  vanish'd. 

(88)  Orybatus  '38  (101)  from]  for  '52. 

(89)  and  all  the  rest  '68.  (104)  ?]  !  '38. 

(97)  Tht  Sylvan  Uob,  '52.  (106)  th']  the  '4Ob. 

(98)  Amyntas's  '68  ?]  ;  '38. 


296  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

The.         Thy  lookes  are  fierce,  thy  words  bespeak  thee 
Gentle. 

Amy.       Why  wep't  he  The  stylist 

The.  I  did  not  marke  him. 

Amy.       It  was  a  mote  in's  eye:  Fie  kisse  it  out;       no 
Pie  curie  thy  shackl'd  looks,  and  crispe  thy  haire 
Like  the  streight-growing  Cypresse.      Come  let's 

put 

Our  heads  together.     Thou  art  more  then  mortall, 
And  shal't  expound  to  Ceres  what  she  askes. 
It  is  a  gallant  Sylvan,  Thestylis.  115 

Cl.  I  am  not  skill'd  in  riddles,  no  interpreter 

Of  Divinations,  but  dare  contend 
With  any  Empyrick  to  doe  a  cure, 
Whether  the  body  or  the  minde  be  sick. 
That  is  my  study,  I  but  crave  the  leave  120 

To  try  the  powre  of  art  upon  this  sheapheard. 
If  Msculapius  be  propitious  to  him, 
After  the  dew  of  one  nights  softer  slumbers, 
I  dare  be  bold  to  say  he  shall  recover. 

Amy.        My  dog  againe?  dost  read  it  in  the  starres?  125 
What  a  strange  man  is  this? 

Cl.  Thy  wits,  Amyntas, 

I  meane;  O  cast  thy  armes  in  my  embraces, 
Speak  carefull  Nymph  how  came  he  thus  distracted? 

Amy.       I  doe  you  meane?  with  a  very-very-very  mad 

trick 

By  making  verses. 

CL  Rest  rest  deluded  fancy!      130 

The.         There  was  a  time  (alas  that  ere  it  was.) 
When  my  poore  sheapheard  fell  in  love. 

(109)  ?]!'38.  (in)  locks '68. 

(no)  eyes:   '403, '4ob, '52.  (129)  a  very-very-very-very  mad  trick: '68- 


AMTNTAS  297 

Cl.  With  whom? 

The.         The  starre  of  beauty,  Pilumnu's  much  admir'd 
Vrania. 

Cl.  O  the  crosse  darts  of  fate! 

The.  Shee  sweet  Nymph  inlodged 

The  casket  of  his  love  in  her  own  bosome,  135 

But  Ceres  set  a  Dowry.     Out  alasse! 
Would  shee  had  bid  us  quench  the  flames  of 

jEtna 

In  Aretbusa's  streames,  it  had  been  easy. 
We  fight  with  words  and  cannot  conquer  them; 
This  her  Imperious  Ompba  ask'd,  and  Thunder'di4o 
That  which  tbou  bast  not,  maist  not,  canst  not  have 
Amyntas,  is  the  Dowry  that  I  crave. 
To  find  out  her  commands,  he  lost  himselfe. 

Cl.  Your  storie's  pittifull:  Tis  my  profession     144 

To  wander  through  the  Earth,  and  in  my  Travell, 
I  am  inquisitive  after  the  sick  to  heale  'em : 
Their  cure  and  kind  acceptance  is  my  pay. 
You  will  not  fear  to  lodge  me  for  a  night  ? 

The.         We  have  but  homely  hospitality. 

Amy.       He  feast  thee  with  some  Venison,  brave  Mon- 
tana. 150 

Cl.  Thy  restitution  is  my  feast  Amyntas; 

Your  curdes  and  chestnuts  and  your  country  fare 
Is  bounteous  for  so  meane  a  guest  as  I: 
But  send  for  that  Vrania  her  sweet  voice 
Must  sing  a  Lullaby  to  drowne  his  senses,  155 

And  charme  soft  sleepe  upon  his  troubled  phancy. 
And    'fore    the    gray-eyd    morne    doe    peepe,    be 
confident 

(133)  Pilumnus  403  ff.  (154)  Frania;  '62,  '68. 

(139)  words]  cords  *sz. 


298  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

I'le  put  the  musique  of  his  braines  in  tune. 
You'l  call  Vrania. 

The.  Doubt  not  sir,  I  will. 

Or  send  my  servant  Mycon  by  the  Vale.  160 

Amy.       Come  Sylvan,  if  the  dogs  doe  barke  Fie  braine 

'em; 
Wee'l  sleepe  to  night  together,  and  to  morrow, 

Cl.  Will  end  I  hope  thy  madnesse,  not  my  sorrow. 

Amy.       Wee'l  goe  a  hunting,  so  ho  ho!  so  ho  ho!  Exeunt. 
Mopsus  from  the  Orchard. 

Mop.       Are  the  mad  dogs  gone  yet?  165 

A  little  more  would  have  perswaded  mee 
Into  a  spaniell:   and  I  may  be  one 
For  any  thing  I  know:  Yet  sure  I  am  not 
Because  methinkes  I  speake;   but  an  this  speaking 
Should  be  but  barking  now:  If  I  be  a  dog  170 

Heaven  send  me  a  better  Master  then  the  former. 
Ceres  defend  me  what  strange  Elves  are  there! 

(159)  Col.    You'l  call  '38,  *4oa,  '4ob,  52. 

(169)  an]  and  '62,  '68..  (170)  :]  ?  '4ob,  ff. 


SCEN.      4. 

Dorylas  with  a  Bevy  of  Fairies. 

Dor.         How  like  you   now  my  Grace?   is   not   my 

countenance 

Royall  and  full  of  Majesty?     Walke  not  I 
Like  the  young  Prince  of  Pigmies  ?    Ha  ?  my  knaves, 
Wee'l  fill  our  pockets.     Looke  looke  yonder,  Elves, 
Would  not  yon  apples  tempt  a  better  conscience     5 
Then  any  we  have  to  rob  an  Orchard?  ha! 

(I)  now]  may  '4ob        om.  '68.  (2)  Walk  I  not  '68.          (6)  !]  ?  '68. 


AMTNTAS  299 

Fairies,  like  Nymphs  with  child,  must  have  the 

things 

They  long  for.     You  sing  here  a  Fairy  catch 
In  that  strange  tongue  I  taught  you:  while  our  selfe 
Doe  clime  the  Trees.     Thus  Princely  Oberon         10 
Ascends  his  throne  of  State. 

Nos  beata  Fauni  Proles, 
Quibus  non  est  magna  molesy 
Elves  Quamvis  Lunam  incolamus, 

Hortos  sezpe  frequentamus.  15 

Furto  cuncta  magis  bella, 
Fur  to  dulcior  Puella. 
Furto  omnia  decora. 
Furto  poma  dulciora. 

Cum  mortales  lecto  jacent,  20 

Nobis  poma  noctu  placent. 
Ilia  tamen  sunt  ingrata, 
Nisifurto  sint  parata. 

locastus.     Bromius. 

lo.         What  divine    noyse    fraught    with    immortall 

harmony 
Salutes  mine  eare?  .  25 

Bro.  Why  this  immortall  Harmony 

Rather  salutes  your  Orchard:  these  young  Rascalls 
These  pescod-shalers  doe  so  cheat  my  Master: 

(9)  our]  your  '^ob,  '52,  '62,      my  '68.  (18)  omma  '52. 

(13)  magnamoles  '38.  (19)  Furto]  Cum  '^ob,  S. 

(16)  cuncto  '68  ,].  '68.  (25)  ears  '68. 

This  poetry  is  not  divided  into  stanzas  in  4Ob,  ff. 
(27)  pescod-shelers  Uob,  '52  pescod  shellers  '62,  '68. 


300  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

We  cannot  have  an  apple  in  the  Orchard, 
But  straight  some  Fairy  longs  for't :  well  if  I        29 
Might  have  my  will,  a  whip  again  should  jerk  h'em, 
Into  their  old  mortality: 

lo.  Dar'st  thou  schreetch-owle 

With  thy  rude  croaking  interrupt  their  musique; 
Whose  melody  hath  made  the  spheares  to  lay 
Their  heavenly  lutes  aside,  only  to  listen 
To  their  more  charming  notes?  35 

Bro.  Say  what  you  will, 

I  say  a  cudgell  now  were  excellent  Musique. 

Oberon  descende  citus, 
Elves.  Ne  cogaris  bine  invitus. 

Canes  audio  latrantes, 
Et  mortales  vigilantes.  40 

lo.  Prince  Oberon?     I  heard  his  Graces  name. 

Bro.          O  ho:  I  spy  his  Grace!     Most  noble  Prince 
Come  downe,  or  I  will  pelt  your  Grace  with  stones, 
That  I  believe  your  Grace  was  ne're  so  pelted 
Since  t'was  a  Grace.  45 

Do.  Bold  mortall,  hold  thy  hand. 

Bro.          Immortall  Thiefe  come  down,  or  I  will  fetch 

you: 

Methidhs  it  should  impaire  his  Graces  honour 
To  steale  poore  mortals  apples:  Now  have  at  you! 

Dor.          locastus,  we  are  Oberon,  and  we  thought 
That  one  so  neere  to  us  as  you  in  favour, 
Would  not  have  suffer*  d  this  prophane  rude  groome 
Thus  to  impaire  our  royaltie. 

(30)  h'em  '4ob,  '52  'em  '62,  '68 

(31)  old]  om.  '68. 


AMTNTAS  301 

Io.  Gracious  Prince, 

The  fellow  is  a  foole,  and  not  yet  purged 

From  his  mortalitie. 
Do.  Did  we  out  of  love 

And  our  intire  affection,  of  all  Orchards  55 

Chuse  yours  to  make  it  happy  by  our  dances, 

Light  ayry  measures,  and  fantastique  rings! 

And  you  ingratefull  mortall  thus  requite  us. 

All  for  one  Apple! 
Io.  Villaine  th'hast  undone  me: 

His  Grace  is  much  incens'd.  60 

Do.  You  know,  locastus, 

Our   Grace    have   Orchards    of  our   owne    more 
precious 

Then  mortals  can  have  any:  And  we  sent  you 

A  Present  of  them  t'other  day. 
Io.  'Tis  right, 

Your  Graces  humble  servant  must  acknowledge  it. 
Bro.         Some  of  his  owne  I  am  sure.  65 

Do.  I  must  confesse 

Their  outside  look'd  something  like  yours  indeed; 

But  then  the  tast  more  relish'd  of  eternitie, 

The  same  with  Nectar. 
Io.  Your  good  Grace  is  welcome 

To  anything  I  have:  Nay,  Gentlemen 

Pray  doe  not  you  spare  neither. 

Elves.  Ti-ti-ta-tf.  70 

Io.  What  say  these  mighty  peeres,  great  Oberon ? 

Do.          They  cannot  speak  this  language,  but  in  ours 

They  thank  you,  and  they  say  they  will  have  none, 
Elves.       Ti-ti-ta-ti-  Tititatie 
Io.  What  say  they  now?  75 

(56)  your's  '38.  (58)  ungrateful  '68  requite*  '38. 


302  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Do.  They  doe  request  you  now 

To  grant  them  leave  to  dance  a  Fayry  ring 
About  your  servant,  and  for  his  offence 
Pinch  him:  doe  you  the  while  command  the  traitour 
Not  dare  to  stirre,  not  once  presume  to  mutter. 

lo.  Traytour,  for  so  Prince  Oberon  deignes  to  call 

thee,  80 

Stirre  not  nor  mutter. 

Bro.  To  be  thus  abus'd! 

lo.  Ha?  mutter' st  thou? 

Bro.  I  have  deserved  better. 

lo.  Still  mutter' st  thou? 

Bro.  I  see  I  must  endure  it. 

lo.  Yet  mutter' st  thou?     Now  Noble  Lords  begin 

When  it  shall  please  your  honours.  85 

Do.  Ti  ti  tatie. 

Our  noble  freind  permits,  Tititatie: 
Doe  you  not  sir? 

lo.  How  should  I  say  I  doe  ? 

Do.  Ti  ti  tatie. 

lo.  Ti  ti  tatie  my  Noble  Lords. 

Quoniam  per  te  violamur 

Elves  Vngues  hie  experiamur.  90 

Statim  dices  tibi  datam 
Cutem  valdl  variatam. 

They  dance. 

lo.  Tititatie  to  your  Lordships  for  this  excellent 

musick 
Bro.         This  'tis  to  have  a  coxcombe  to  on's  master. 

(75)  rebust  '52.  (93)  Lordship  for  his  '68. 

(89)  per  le~\  partt  '52.  (94)  one's  '52,  ff. 


A  MT NT  AS  303 

Io.  Still  mutter'st  thou  ?  95 

Exit  Bromius. 
Dorylas  from  the  tree:   locastus  falls  on  his  knees. 

Do.          And  rise  up  Sir  locastus,  our  deare  Knight. 
Now  hang  the  hallowed  bell  about  his  neck, 
We  call  it  a  mellisonant  Tingle  Tangle, 
(Indeed  a  sheep-bell  stolne  from's  own  fat  wether.) 

aside. 

The  ensigne  of  his  knighthood.     Sir  locastus,      100 
Wee  call  to  mind  we  promis'd  you  long  since 
The  President  of  our  Dances  place;  we  are  now 
Pleas'd  to  confirme  it  on  you:  give  him  there 
His  Staffe  of  Dignity. 

Io.  Your  Grace  is  pleas'd 

To  honour  your  poor  leigeman. 

Do.  Now  begone.    105 

Io.  Farewell  unto  your  Grace  and  eke  to  you, 

Tititatie  my  Noble  Lords  farewell.  Exit. 

Dor.         Tititatie  my  noble  foole  farewell: 

Now,  my  Nobility  and  honourd  Lords,  109 

Our  grace  is  pleas'd  for  to  part  stakes;  here  localo 
These  are  your  share;    these  his,  and  these  our 

Graces. 

Have  we  not  gull'd  him  bravely!  see  you  Rascalls, 
These  are  the  fruits  of  witty  knavery. 
Mopsus  enters  barking. 

Dor.         Heaven  shield  Prince  Oberon,  and  his  honour'd 

Lords ! 
We  are  betraid. 

Mop.  Bow  wow  wow.  115 

(too)  his]  this  '68. 

(107)  Lord  '68        *Exit.]  not  indicated  in  *4ob,  '51. 

(ill)  your]  you  '400. 

(Hi)  !]  ?  '68 


304  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Nay  nay  since  you  have  made  a  sheepe  of  my 
Brother 

Fie  be  a  dog  to  keepe  him. 

Do.  O  good  Mopsusl 

Mop.        Does  not  your  Grace,  most  lowe  and  mighty 
Dorylas, 

Feare  whipping  now? 
Do.  Good  Mopsus  but  conceale  us, 

And  I  will  promise  by  to  morrow  night  120 

To  get  thee  Tbestylis. 
Mop.  I  will  aske  leave 

Of  the  birds  first.     An  owle?  the  bird  of  night; 

An  owle  sbreekes. 

That  plainly  shewes  that  by  to  morrow  night, 

He  may  perform  his  promise. 
Do.  And  I  will. 

Mop.       Why  then  I  will  conceale  you.     But  your 
Grace  125 

Must  thinke  your  Grace  beholding  to  mee. 
Do.  Well: 

We  doe. 
Mop.  And  thanke  the  owle,  she  stood  your  friend. 

And  for  this  time  my  witty  Grace  farewell. 
Do.          Nay  be  not  so  discourteous;  Stay  and  take 

An  apple  first:   you  localo  give  him  one,  130 

And  you  another,  and  our  Grace  a  third. 
Mop.       Your  Grace  is  liberall:   But  now  I  feare 

I  am  not  hee  that  must  interpret  th'  Oracle. 

My  brother  will  prevent  me,  to  my  griefe 

I  much  suspect  it,  for  this  Dorylas  135 

A  scarre-crow  cozend  him  most  shamefully, 

Which  makes  me  feare  hee's  a  more  foole  then  I. 

Exit  Mopsus. 

(126)  :].4ob         .'52         ?'68. 


AMYNTAS  305 

Dor.         So,  we  are  clean  got  off:  come  noble  Peeres 
Of  Fairy,  come,  attend  our  Royall  Grace. 
Lets  goe  and  share  our  fruit  with  our  Queen  Mab,i\o 
And  th'other  Darymaids;  where  of  this  theam 
We  will  discourse  amidst  our  Cakes  and  Cream. 

Cum  tot  poma  babeamus, 
Elves.  Triumphos  leeti  iam  canamus. 

Faunos  ego  credam  ortos  145 

Tantum  ut  frequentent  hortos. 

I  domum  Oberon  ad  illas 

Qua  nos  manent  nunc  ancillas. 

Quarum  osculemur  sinum, 

Inter  poma,  lac,  y  vinum.  150 

Finis  Actus  tertii. 


ACTVS   4.      SCEN    I. 

Mopsus,  Tbestilis. 

Mop.         r  would  have  you  know  Tbestilis,  so  I  would 
A  I  am  no  dog,  but  mortall  flesh  and  blood 

As  you  are. 

Tbes.  O  be  patient  gentle  Mopsus. 

Mop.        Slid,  fetch  and  carry! 
Tbes.  Nay  good  sweet  heart 

Be  not  so  angry. 
Mop.  Angry?  why  'twould  anger      5 

A  dog  indeed  to  be  so  us'd,  a  dog! 

I  would  not  use  a  dog  so:  bid  a  dog 

That  comes  of  a  good  house  to  fetch  and  carry! 

(4)  S'lid  *40a,  ff.  (5)  «o]  om.  '52. 


306  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Discourteous!  let  him  get  dogs  of  his  own, 

For  I  have  got  my  neck  out  of  the  collar.  10 

Let  him  unkennell's  Oracles  himselfe 

For  Mopsus,  if  I  starte  or  spring  him  one 

Tie  dye  the  dogs  death  and  be  hang'd:  mad  foole! 

Tbes.        But  Mopsus,  you  may  now  securely  visit 

Mee  and  my  house:  Amyntas,  heaven  beprais'd,ij 
Is  now  recover'd  of  his  wits  again. 

Mop.       How?  and  grown  wise! 

Thes.  Ceres  be  prais'd  as  ever. 

Mop.        Shut  up  your  doores  then;  Carduus  Benedictus 
Or  Dragon  water  may  doe  good  upon  him. 

Tbfs.       What  mean  you  Mopsus?  20 

Mop.  Mean  I  ?  what  mean  you 

To  invite  me  to  your  house  when  'tis  infected  ? 

Thes.        Infected  ? 

Mop.                            I,  Amyntas  has  the  Wits. 
And  doe  you  think  Tie  keepe  him  company? 
Though,  as  I  told  you  still,  I  am  suspitious 
locastus  is  the  man  that  must 

The.  Doe  what?      25 

Mop.       It  grieves  me  to  think  of  it. 

The.  Out  with't  man. 

Mop.       That  must  interpret;  I  have  cause  to  think 
(With  sorrow  be  it  spoken)  he  will  prove 
The  verier  foole,  but  let  him;  yet  now  my  Augury 
That  never  failes  me,  tells  me  certainly  30 

That  I  shall  have  thee,  Thestylis,  yet  ere  night; 
It  was  an  owle 

(18)  Carduus,  Benedictus  *4Ob,  '$*, 
(21)  what  mean  you?  '52. 
(24)  told  you,  still  I  am  '68. 


AMTNTAS  307 

SCEN.    2. 

Claius.     Amyntas. 

And see  see,  Thestylis, 

Here  comes  the  Ivy  bush.     Fie  stand  aside, 
For  I  am  still  most  bodily  afraid. 

Amy.       What  Deity  lives  here?  the  soul  of  Pbcebus 
Breaths  in  this  powerfull  man:  sure  Aesculapius    5 
Revisits  earth  againe;   and  in  this  shape 
Deales  health  amongst  us!  I  before  was  nothing 
But  bruit  and  beast:  O  tell  me  by  what  reliques 
Of  heavenly  fire  you  have  inspir'd  me  with 
This  better  soule  of  reason!  worthy  sir,  10 

If  y'are  some  God  (as  lesse  I  cannot  deeme  you) 
That  pittying  of  my  miseries,  came  downe 
From  heaven  to  cure  mee,  tell  mee,  that  I  may 
With  sacrifice  adore  you. 

Mop.  Adore  him? 

Are  there  such  Ruffian  Gods  in  heaven  as  he?      15 
Such  beggarly  Deities? 

Amyn.  If  you  will  conceale  it, 

And  I  by  ignorance  omit  to  pay 
Those  sacred  duties  that  I  ought,  be  pleas'd 
To  pardon  me. 

Mop.  Heighday !  well  Tbestylis, 

You  may  be  glad  your  house  is  not  infected;        20 

Hee's  ten  times  madder  now  then  ere  he  was, 

To  deify  this  rude  ill-favour'd  Silvan, 

This  fellow  with  the  beard  all  over:   Tbestylis, 

I  dare  not  stay;  unlesse  my  heeles  maintaine      24 

My  safety  I  shall  turne  a  dog  againe.  Exit  Mopsus. 

(4)  lives?  the  soul  '62,  '68. 


308  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Clai.         I  am  as  you  are,  mortall;  'tis  my  skill 
In  Physick,  and  experience  in  the  rare 
Vertue  of  herbes,  that  wrought  this  miracle; 
No  Divinity,  or  power  in  me. 

Tbest.      AmyntaSy  when    shall  we   requite   this   kind- 
nesse?  30 

Amynt.    Never,  I  would  willingly 

Have  sacrific'd  unto  him,  but  his  modesty 

Will  not  permit  it:  though  he  will  not  suffer  us 

T' adore  him  as  a  God,  yet  we  may  pay 

A  reverence  to  him  as  a  father.  35 

Claius.     O  those  words  doe  touch  the  quick! 

Amyn.  For  if  he  be 

A  father  that  begot  this  flesh,  this  clay, 
What's  he  to  whom  we  owe  our  second  birth 
Of  soule  and  reason  ?     Father,  I  must  call  you 
By  that  name,  father.  40 

Claius.  Now  the  floudgates  open,  (aside 

And  the  full  stream  of  teares  will  issue  out: 
Traitors,  you  will  betray  me! 

Tbest.  Sir,  why  weepe  you? 

Claius.      To  thinke  of  this  man's  father O  I  lov'd 

him 

As  dearely  as  my  selfe!  (my  words  and  all 
Breake  out  suspitious!)  has  he  not  a  daughter?    45 
As  I  remember  well,  he  said  her  name  was 

The.         Amaryllis. 

Cla.  Yes,  I  had  almost 

Forgot  it,  I  would  faine  have  scene  her  too. 

Tbest.        You  cannot  now,  because  to  night  she  lodg'd 
With  one  Laurinda.  5° 

(39)  Father;  '52 

(40)  floud-gate's  '4Ob,  '52. 


AMTNTAS  309 

SCEN.    3. 

Vrania. 

Amy.  O  my  Crania,  welcome, 

Amyntas  bids  thee  so,  I  that  'till  now 

Was  not  Amyntas:  come  my  joy,  and  meet  mee 

Full  of  our  happinesse! 
Vra.  Grant  Ceres  now 

My  hopes  be  faithfull  to  me:  my  Amyntas ',  5 

How  came  your  thoughts  so  setled  ? 
Amyn.  O  Vrania^ 

Here,  here  he  stands,  to  whom  I  owe  my  selfe, 

And  thou  owest  me:  we  reverence  in  our  Temples 

Marble,  and  brasse,  whose  statues  serve  for  nothing 

But  to  hang  cobwebs  on :  oh !  how  much  rather     10 

Should  we  adore  this  Deity,  that  bestowed 

Such  happinesse  upon  us! 
Vra.  Would  we  knew 

How  to  deserve  it. 
Cla.  So  you  may  Vrania, 

If  you  will  grant  me  one  request. 
Vra.  Command  it. 

Cla.          I  would  intreat  you  presently  to  vow  16 

Virginity  to  Ceres,  that  Amyntas 

No  more  may  toyle  his  brain  in  thinking  what 

To  give  you  for  a  Dowry. 
Vra.  Sir,  I  will 

Presently  about  it,  I'le  only  first 

Get  some  unknown  disguise.  20 

Claius.  I  dare  stay  here 

No  longer,  for  I  must  begon  ere  yet 

The  light  betrayes  me. 

(5)  to  me,  my  Amyntas.  '4ob,  "52         me,  my  Amyntas,  '62,  '68. 
(8)  Temple  '52.  (21)  be  gone  '52,  ff. 


310  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Vra.  Happinesse  attend  you! 

Cla.          Remember  it  Vrania. 

Amyn.  Farewell  father. 

Exeunt  Fran.  Amynt.  Tbestyl. 
Claius  Solus. 

Clai.        Thus  like  a  bat,  or  owle  I  spend  my  age 

In  night  or  darknesse,  as  asham'd  of  day,  25 

And  fearefull  of  the  light:  the  sunne  and  I 
Dare  never  be  acquainted.     O  guilt,  guilt, 
Thou  and  thy  daughter  feare  are  punishments 
Perpetuall,  every  whistling  of  the  wind  29 

Doth  seeme  the  noise  of  apprehenders;  shadowes 
Affright  me  more  then  men.     Each  step  I  tread 
Is  danger.     Life?  why  to  live  longer  should  we 
Not  live  at  all  ?  I  heare  a  noy se :  false  timorousnesse 

Deceive  me  not, my  eyes  instruct  me  too, 

Heaven  shield  me 35 

(33)  ?]  =  '38. 
SCEN.    4. 

Alexis.     Damon. 

Fain  I  would  enquire  of  them 

For  Amaryllis,  but  if  one  of  these 

Bee  Damon,  I  am  lost 

Alex.        How  early,  Damon,  doe  lovers  rise? 
Cla.         Tis  he,  I  heare  his  name,  good  mole  away. 

Exit  5 

Dam.       No  Larkes  so  soon,  Alexis. 

(3-6)  These  lines  are  so  divided  in  all  the  editions.    They  may,  however,  be  thu» 
arranged  to  make  blank  verse: 

Bee  Damon,  I  am  lost. 
Alex.  How  early,  Damon, 

Doe  lovers  rise? 
Cla.  Tis  he,  I  heare  his  name, 

Good  mole  away.  Exit. 

Dam.  No  Larkes  so  soon,  Alexis. 


AMYNTAS  311 

Alex.        He  that  of  us  shall  have  Laurinda,  Damon 

Will  not  be  up  so  soone:  ha!  would  you  Damon? 
Dam.       A lexis,  no;  but  if  I  misse  Laurinda, 

My  sleepe  shall  be  eternall.  10 

Alex.        I  much  wonder  the  Sunne  so  soone  can  rise! 
Da.  Did  he  lay  his  head  in  faire  Laurinda' s  lap, 

We  should  have  but  short  daies. 

Alex.  No  summer,  Damon. 

Dam.        Thetis  to  her  is  browne. 
Alex.  And  he  doth  rise 

From  her  to  gaze  on  faire  Laurinda' s  eyes.  15 

Dam.       O  now  I  long  to  meet  our  Arbitresse. 
Alex.       On  whom  depends  our  only  happinesse. 
Dam.       It  must  be  the  first  Virgin  that  we  greet 

From  Ceres  Temple. 

Alex.  Yes,  the  first  we  meet. 

Dam.       I  heare  no  noise  of  any  yet  that  move.          20 
Alex.        Devotion's  not  so  early  up  as  love. 
Dam.       See  how  Aurora  blushes!  we  suppose 

Where  Tithon  lay  to  night. 
Alex.  That  modest  rose 

He  grafted  there. 
Dam.  O  heaven,  'tis  all  I  seeke 

To  make  that  colour  in  Laurinda' s  cheeke.  25 

Alex.        The  virgins  now  come  from  the  Temple. 
Dam.       Appeale  unto  the  first. 

(13)  Alexis.    We  should  '38. 
(17)  only]  daily  '52. 


312  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

SCEN.    5. 

The  virgins  passe  over  the  stage  with  waxe  candles 
in  their  hands,  Amaryllis  goes  the  first,  but  she  is 
staid  by  Damon,  as  unknown  to  be  Amaryllis,  she 
being  vail'd  and  having  on  her  head  the  garland  that 
Laurinda  took  from  Damon. 

Chast  beauteous  Nymph 

Ceres  so  grant  your  prayers,  as  you  determine 

Justly  our  cause! 
Amar.  Ceres  has  heard  my  prayers, 

For  all  my  morning  orisons  beg'd  no  more 

Then  one  kind  word  from  Damon. 
Dam.  Amaryllis!      5 

Alex.        That  name  breaths  life  &  soul  to  poore  Alexis. 
Amar.      The  same;  —  why  startle  you?  you  have  not 
met 

A  poyson,  Damon. 
Dam.  Yes  a  thousand  vipers 

Have  stung  my  soule. 
Alex.  As  many  joyes  crown  mine 

With  happinesse.  10 

Dam.  Would  I  had  met  this  morning 

Infectious  vapors  nursing  plagues,  not  thee; 

No  curse  but  that  had  power  to  ruin  mee! 
Alex.        No  other  blessing  hath  preserved  mee. 
Amar.      What    should   this   mean,   my  Damon\    how 
have  I 

Displeas'd  you,  sweet?  heaven  knowes  it  is  my 
praier  15 

More  then  for  heaven,  to  please  you. 

(n)  vapors,  "62,  '68. 


AMYNTAS  313 

Da.  O  my  torture! 

Fly  hence  as  farre  as  hell,  and  hide  thy  head 

Lower  then  darknesse;    would  thou  had'st  been 
acting 

Incest  or  murder,  when  thou  cam'st  to  pray: 

Thou  hadst  in  any  thing  sinn'd  lesse  then  this:     20 

Vnseasonable  devotion! 
Amar.  Can  it  be 

A  sin  to  pray  for  Damon? 
Dam.  Thou  had'st  blest  mee 

Had'st  thou  sate  all  this  while  in  some  dark  cell 

Loading  my  head  with  curses. 
Ama.  Innocence 

Let  me  not  understand  you.  25 

Dam.  I'le  not  stand 

To  her  award,  she  is  a  partiall  judge, 

And  will  decree  unjustly. 
Ama.  How,  to  Damon  ? 

To  him  she  loves  so  deerely? 
Dam.  That's  the  reason; 

Shee  does  confesse,  Alexis,  that  she  loves  me, 

That's  argument  enough  against  her.  3° 

Amar.      Ceres,  these  obscure  passions  move  me. 
Alex.  Fie  instruct  you, 

Take  here  the  paper,  pen  and  inke. 
Ama.  Why  yet  sir 

I  know  no  more. 

Alex.  You  are  to  passe  your  censure, 

Being  the  first  Nymph  that  we  have  met  this 
morning, 

(27)  How  to  Damon?    Uob,  ff. 

(30-31)  These  lines  would  be  more  metrical  if  they  should  be  arranged: 

That's  argument  enough  against  her. 
Amar.  Ceres. 

These  obscure  passions  move  me. 


314  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Which  of  us  two  must  have  the  faire  Laurinda.     35 

Write  your  award;  our  mutuall  oathes  doe  bind 
us 

Not  to  deny't. 
Da.  'Tis  a  meere  plot  contriv'd 

Betwixt  this  cursed  Nymph,  and  you,  Alexis. 
Alex.        Damon,  you  wrong  us  both. 
Dam.  Where  did  you  steale 

This  Garland  ?  it  was  mine.  4° 

Ama.  For  that  I  love  it. 

Because  it  once  was  thine. 
Da.  For  that  I  hate  it, 

'Cause  it  is  thine,  had  it  been  true  to  mee, 

Me  thinkes  as  soone  as  it  had  toucht  thy  head 

It  should  have  withered. 
Amar.  So  it  would  have  done 

Had   it  not  first  touch't  yours.    Laurinda  gave 
me  45 

This  Garland,  but  nere  told  me  of  this  accident. 
Da.          Alexis,  you  deale  false,  'tis  a  conspiracy 

'Twixt  you  and  her. 
Alex.  How  can  it?   you  know,  Damon, 

I  have  not  beene  one  minute  from  your  presence. 
Da.          You  tooke  your  time  while  I  was  sleeping.     50 
Alex.  Neither, 

Nor  I  nor  you  could  sleepe  one  winke  this  night, 

The  expectation  of  this  morning  tryall 

Did  keepe  us  both  awake. 
Da.  I  doe  not  know, 

But  there  is  some  trick  in't,  and  I'le  appeale 

From  her  too  partiall  sentence.  55 

(38)  Nymph  and  you,  "4ob,  ff. 
(41)  /'38. 


AMYNTAS  315 

Ale.          Tie  the  while  goe  fetch  Laurinda,  shee  shall 
force  you  stand 

Vnto  her  tryall.  Exit. 

Amar.      Damon,  thy  harsh  language  is  more  then  death 

Vnto  me. 
Da.  I  doe  charge  you  to  teare  the  paper, 

And  refuse  to  judge  between  us.  60 

Amar.      No,  I  am  resolv'd  to  write  what  I  determine. 

Da.          Now  thou  hast  indeed  a  time  wherein  thou 

maist 

Revenge  my  scorne.     Take  it,  but  I'le  prevent  thee. 

be  strikes  her. 

Amar.          Welcome  death ! 

From  him  all  things  are  so.     Damon,  fly  hence,   65 
Thou  hast  shed  bloud  here  in  the  Sacred  Valley, 
Make  hast  away  or  thou  art  lost  for  ever. 

Dam.       Thy  counsell's  good,  no  matter  whose  the  guilt. 

Exit  Damon. 

Ama.       What  was  it  he  said  last? Thou  hast  indeed 

A  time  wherein  thou  maist  revenge  my  scorne.       7° 
With  love,  no  otherwise :  and  there  thou  shalt  not 

(56)  This  should  undoubtedly  be  arranged  thus,  to  finish  out  line  55: 

Alt.  lie  the  while 

Goe  fetch  Laurinda,  shee  shall  force  you  stand 

(58-64)  These  lines  will  scan  if  rearranged  as  follows: 
Amar.  Damon,  thy  harsh  language 

Is  more  then  death  unto  me. 
Da.  I  doe  charge  you 

To  tear  the  paper,  and  refuse  to  judge 

Between  us. 
Amar.  No,  I  am  resolved  to  write 

What  I  determine. 
Da.  Now  thou  hast  indeed 

A  time  wherein  thou  maist  revenge  my  scorne. 

Take  it,  but  I'le  prevent  thee.  kf  strikes  her. 

jlmar.  Welcome  death! 

(59)  doe]  om.  '68.  (63)  scorne;  take  it:  '68. 

(61)  what]  om.  '400,  '52.  (70)  my]  thy  '51. 


316  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Prevent  mee,  Damon.     I  will  write This  inke 

Deserves  not  to  record  the  name  of  Damon, 

Tis  black  and  ugly;  thou  thy  selfe  hast  furnisht  mee 

With  that  of  better  colour.     'Tis  my  blood  75 

That's  truly  Cupids  inke:  love  ought  to  write 

Only  with  that;  —  .     This  paper  is  too  course; 

O  that  I  had  my  heart,  to  write  it  there! 

But  so  it  is  already.     Would  I  had 

A  Parchment  made  of  my  own  skin,  in  that          80 

To  write  the  truth  of  my  affection, 

A  wonder  to  posterity! Hand  make  hast 

As  my  bloud  does,  or  I  shall  faint  I  feare 
Ere  I  have  done  my  story. 

SCEN.  6. 
Enter  Dorylas. 

Dor.         These  milkemaids  are  the  daintiest  rogues, 

they  kisse 

As  sweet  as  sillibubs,  surely  Oberon 
Lives  a  delitious  life!  Ha!  who  lies  here? 
A  Nymph  ?     If't  were  but  now  in  Oberons  power 
To  steale  away  her  maidenhead,  as  she  sleepes:     5 
O  'twould  be  excellent  sport,  to  see  how  shee 
Would  misse  it  when  she  wakes:  what  misery  'tis 
To  be  a  boy;  why  could  not  my  good  father 
Have  got  me  five  yeares  sooner?  here  had  been 
A  purchase:  well,  'tis  but  five  yeares  longer         10 
And  I  shall  hope  to  see  a  merrier  world. 
No  body  neere  too!     Slid  the  very  thought's 
Enough  to  make  me  man  oth  sudden,  well 
I'le  kisse  her  though. 

(3)  Ha  who  '4ob,  '52.  (12)  S'lid  '403,  ff. 

(7)  'tis]  it  is  "40b,  ff.  (13)  o  'the  *4Ob,  '52  o'th  '62,  '68. 


AM  TNT  AS  317 

Amar.  O  I  faint. 

Dor.  She  dreames;     14 

Now  shall  I  know  all  secrets:  These  same  women 

Are  given  so  much  to  talke  when  they  are  awake 

That  they  prate  sleeping  too. 
Amar.  My  blood  congeales 

Within  my  quill,  and  I  can  write  no  more. 
Dor.         Love  letters?  she  was  troubled  yester  night 

About  inditeing,  and  she  dreames  on't  now.           20 

Poore  sleepy  secretary! 
Ama.  I  will  fold  it  up 

And  send  it;  who's  that's  here?  my  eyes 

Are  dimme,  ha,  Dorylas! 
Dor.         Now  she  dreames  she  gives  it  me  to  carry; 

I  halfe  feare  I  use  to  carry  letters  in  my  sleepe,     25 

Wearying  my  selfe  all  night,  and  that's  the  reason 

I  am  so  loath  to  rise  i'th  morning. 
Ama.       Dorylas,  carry  this  letter  for  mee. 
Dor.  I  thought  so, 

That's  all  that  I  can  doe,  carry  their  letters,       29 

Or  runne  of  errands:  well,  come  five  yeares  hence 

They  may  imploy  me  better.     Vnto  whom  is  it? 
Ama.       Vnto  Laurinda,  take  it. 
Dor.  How,  a  red  letter? 

Amar.      Say  I  wish  all  health  to  her  and  Damon; 

And  being  not  able  for  to  beare  my  griefes,  34 

I  sought  a  remedy  from  mine  own  speare  and  died. 

(24-28)  These  lines  may  be  rearranged  as  follows: 
Dor.  Now  she  dreames 

She  gives  it  me  to  carry;  I  halfe  feare 

I  use  to  carry  letters  in  my  sleepe, 

Wearying  my  selfe  all  night,  and  that's  the  reason 

I  am  so  loath  to  rise  i'th  morning. 
Ama.  Dorylas, 

Carry  this  letter  for  mee. 

(31)  me]  be  '$2. 


318  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Dor.         How  dead  ?  oh  mee, 

See  how  her  blood  hath  stain'd  the  holy  Valley  \ 
Well  you  have  done  me  wrong  to  kill  your  selfe, 
Only  to  have  me  sacrific'd  on  the  Altar, 
I  nere  deserv'd  it. 

Ama.  Fear  not  Dorylas.  40 

Dor.         Fear    not    to    dye     so    like     a    calfe?     oh 
Dorylas  oh 

Ama.       Good  Dorylas  be  gone,  whilest  yet  my  breath 
Will  give  me  leave  to  say  it  was  not  you. 

Dor.         See  that  you  doe,  and  so  farewell.  Exit. 

Amar.  Farewell ! 

How  fearfull  death  is  unto  them,  whose  life          45 
Had  any  sweetnesse  in  it!  my  daies  have  all 
Been  so  oreworne  with  sorrow,  that  this  wound 
Is  unto  me  rather  a  salve  then  sore, 
More  physick  then  disease:  whither  my  journey 
Shall  lead  me  now;    through  what  dark  hideous 
place,  5° 

Among   what    monsters,    hags    and    snake-hair'd 

Furies, 

Am  I  to  goe,  I  know  not;  but  my  life 
Hath  been  so  spotlesse,  chast,  and  innocent, 
My  death  so  undeserv'd,  I  have  no  reason 
(If  there  be  Gods)  but  to  expect  the  best;  55 

Yet  what  doth  most  torment  me,  is  the  thought 
How  long  'twill  bee  ere  I  again  enjoy 
My  Damon's  presence:  untill  then,  Elysium 
Will  be  no  place  of  pleasure;  and  perchance         59 
When  he  comes  thither  too,  he  then  may  slight  mee 

As  much  as  now. That  very  feare  doth  make 

thee 
Dye,  wretched  Amaryllis! 

(42)  while  '62,  '68. 


AMTNTAS  319 

SCEN.    7. 

Enter  Claius. 

Cla.  How  no  feare 

Can  make  me  loose  the  father!    Death  or  danger 
Threat  what  you  can;  I  have  no  heart  to  goe 
Back  to  the  mountaines,  'till  my  eyes  have  seen 
My  Amaryllis  I 

Amar.  O  was  ever  love 

So  cros'd  as  mine!  was  ever  Nymph  so  wretched 
As  Amaryllis? 

Cla.  Ha!  I  heard  the  sound 

Of  Amaryllis;  where's  that  blessed  creature, 
That  owes  the  name?  are  you  the  Virgin? 

Ama.  Yes, 

That  fatall  name  is  mine.     I  shall  anon 
Be  nothing  but  the  name.  10 

Cla.  O  speak,  what  hand, 

What  barbarous  Tigers  issue,  what  cursed  whelpe 
Of  Beares  or  Lyon,  had  the  marble  heart 
To  wound  so  sweet  a  Nymph  ? 

Amar.  O  sir,  my  bloud 

Calls  none  but  fortune  guilty.     I  by  chance 
Stumbled  on  mine  own  dart,  and  hurt  my  selfe.  15 

Clai.        Then  I  have  hearbs  to  cure  it:  heaven  I  thank 

thee 

That  didst  instruct  me  hither!  still  the  bloud 
Flowes  like  a  scarlet  torrent,  whose  quick  streame 
Will  not  be  checkt:  speak  Amarillis,  quickly, 
What  hand  this  sinne  hath  stain'd,  upon  whose 
soule  20 

(5)  !]  ?  '68.  (12)  Lyons  *4ob,  '52  Lion*  '62,  '68. 

(6)  ?]  !  '68.  (15)  mine]  my  '68. 


320  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

This  bloud  writes  murther;  till  you  see  the  man 
Before  your  eyes,  that  gave  the  hurt,  all  hope 

In  Physick  is  despaire: She  will  not  speak, 

And  now  the  cure  growes  to  the  last.     Yet  here 
I  have  a  Recipe  will  revive  her  spirits,  25 

And  'till  the  last  drop  of  her  blood  be  clean 

Applies  a  medicine  and  rubs  her  temples. 
Exhausted  from  those  azure  veines,  preserve  her; 
But  then  shee's  lost  for  ever!  Then,  O  Ceres, 
If  there  be  any  in  these  groves,  men,  virgins, 
Beast,  bird,  or  trees,  or  any  thing  detesting          3° 
This  horrid  fact,  reveale  it!  Sacred  grasse 
Whose   hallowed   greene   this   bloudy   deed   hath 

stain'd, 
Aske  nature  for  a  tongue  to  name  the  murtherer! 

Pie  to  the  Temple: If  this  place  containe 

Any  Divinity,  Piety,  or  Religion,  35 

If  there  be  any  God  at  home,  or  Priest, 
Ompha,  or  Oracle,  Shrine,  or  Altar,  speake 
Who  did  it:  who  is  guilty  of  this  sinne, 
That  dyes  the  earth  with   bloud,   &  makes  the 

heavens 
Asham'd  to  stand  a  witnesse?  40 

(25)  receipt  Uob,  ff. 

(•26)  Umplts]  liples  '38.     In  the  original  editions  this  stage  direction  is  in  the 
margin  opposite  11.  26-29. 
(29)  Virgin,  '4ob,  '52. 

SCEN.    8. 

Enter  Pilumnus.     Corymbus. 

Pilum.  What  sad  voyce 

Disturbs  our  pious  Orgyes  ? 
Cor.  See,  Pilumnus, 

A  virgin  all  in  gore. 


AM  TNT  AS  321 

Pit.  Ceres  defend  us; 

The  Sacred  7 ally  is  prophan'd. 
Cor.  The  place 

So  deare  to  Ceres,  all  defil'd  with  bloud.  5 

Pil.  By  Ceres,  and  her  holy  Ompha,  hee 

That  did  it,  with  his  blood  shall  satisfy 

The  Goddesse  anger;  who  by  blood  offends 

By  his  own  sacrific'd,  must  make  amends. 
Cla.          I  durst  presume  upon  the  power  of  art,         10 

Did  I  but  know  the  murtherer. 
Pil.  Howsoever 

'Tis  death  to  him  that  did  it. 
Cor.  Speake  his  name 

Faire  virgin. 
Ama.  O —  if  it  be  death  to  him 

That  did  it,  I  have  not  the  power  to  live 

Beyond  him.  15 

Cor.  Why,  who  was  it  then  ? 

Ama.  My  selfe, 

And  in  my  death  your  law  is  satisfied, 

The  blood  and  act  both  mine. 
Cla.  It  is  not  so, 

For  had  it  been  by  her  own  hand,  my  skill 

Could  have  preserv'd  her  life. 
Amar.  It  was  my  selfe, 

Or  one  as  deare. 

Cla.  Who's  that?  20 

Ama.  I'le  rather  dye 

Then  name  him,  though  it  be  a  name  I  use 

Oft  to  repeat,  and  every  repetition 

Is  a  new  soule  unto  mee:  'tis  a  name 

I  have  taught  the  birds  to  caroll,  every 

(23)  'tis  my  name  '68. 


322  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Laurell  and  Cedar  beares  it  registred  25 

Vpon  his  tender  barke;  it  is  a  name 

In  which  is  all  the  life  I  yet  have  left; 

A  name  I  long  to  speake;  yet  I  had  rather 

Dye  all  the  severall  sorts  of  death  twice  over 

Then  speake  it  once.  30 

Clai.  I  charge  thee  by  that  duty 
Thou  ow'st  to  me,  Amarillis,  that  thou  owest  to  me 
Who  gave  thee  life. 

Pit.  What  should  this  mean  Corymbusl 

Cl.  And  by  the  womb  that  bare  thee,  by  the  breasts 

Of  thy  dead  mother,  Lalage, 

Cor.  This  is  strange. 

Cla.          Conceale  him  not!  in  plain,  I  am  thy  father  35 
Thy  father,  Amarillis,  that  commands  thee 
By  these  gray  haires  to  tell  mee.    I  am  Claius. 

Pilum.     How,  Claius\  and  so  fortunatly  found! 

Claius.     I,  glut  your  hate,  Pilumnus;  let  your  soule 
That  has  so  long  thirsted  to  drinke  my  blood,      4° 
Swill  till  my  veines  are  empty;  and  carowse 
Deep  in  my  heart,  till  you  grow  drunke,  and  reele, 
And  vomit  up  the  surfet,  that  your  cruelty 
Quaft  off  with  so  much  pleasure;  I  have  stood 
Long  like  a  fatall  oake,  at  which  great  love          45 
Levels  his  thunder;  all  my  boughes  long  since 
Blasted  and  wither'd ;  now  the  trunke  falls  too. 
Heaven  end  thy  wrath  in  mee! 

Pilum.  Blessed  be  Ceres\ 

What  unexpected  happines  is  here? 
Rejoyce  Sicilians',  miserable  lovers,  5° 

Crowne  all  your  browes  with  roses,  and  adore 
The  Deity  that  sent  him:  he  is  come 

(32)  !]  ?  '68.  (49)  ?]  !  '68.  (50)  ;]  ,  '68    om.  ^ob,  '52. 


AMYNTAS  323 

Whose  blood  must  quench  the  fire  of  Ceres  wrath, 

And  kindle  more  auspitious  flames  of  love 

In  every  brest.  55 

Cla.  I,  doe,  I  feare  not  death. 

Let  every  Virgins  hand  when  I  am  slaine 
Ring  me  a  knell  of  Plaudits:  let  my  Dirges 
Be  amorous  Ditties,  and  in  stead  of  weeping 
Dance  at  my  funerall !  Tis  no  griefe  for  mee 
To  dye  to  make  my  countrymen  some  sport.       60 
Here's  one  in  whom  I  only  wish  to  live 
Another  age. 

Amar.  What  joy  have  I  to  live, 

That  nere  liv'd  yet?  the  time  that  I  have  spent 
Since  first  I  wept,  then,  when  I  first  had  entrance 
Into  this  world,  this  cold  and  sorrowfull  world,    65 
Was  but  a  scene  of  sorrow;  wretched  I! 
Fatall  to  both  my  parents!  For  my  birth 
Ruin'd  my  mother,  and  my  death  my  father. 
O  Tragick  life!  I  either  should  have  been 
Nere  borne,  or  nere  have  died.     When  I  began    7° 
To  be,  my  sinne  began,  why  should  it  then 
Out  live  mee  ?  for,  though  now  I  cease  to  be, 
That  still  continues:  Eyes,  flow  forth  a  pace, 
And  be  asham'd  to  see  my  wound  run  blood 

Faster  then  you  drop  teares 75 

Enter  Damon. 

See,  here  he  comes. 
His  absence  never  untill  now  I  wisht. 

Dam.       My  Conscience  brings  me  back,  the  feet  of 

guilt 

Goe  slow  and  dull,  'tis  hard  to  run  away 
From  that  we  beare  about  us! 

(63)  ?]  :  '38.  (70)  ne're  '62  (?»)  Out-live      *4Oa,  *4ob,  '$«. 


324  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Cla.  The  Murtherer 

Is  it  this  place,  the  issue  of  her  blood  80 

Is  stop'd  o'th'  sudden.    Cruel  man,  'tis  thou 
Hast  done  this  bloudy  act,  that  will  disgrace 
The  story  of  our  nation,  and  imprint 
So  deepe  a  blemish  in  the  age  we  live  in 
For  savage  Barbarisme,  that  eternity  .    85 

Shall  nere  weare  out:  Pilumnus,  on  my  knees 
I  beg  the  justice  of  Sicilian  lawes 
Against  this  monster. 

Pilum.  Claius,  'tis  your  hate, 

And  old  revenge  instructs  you  to  accuse 
My    sonne:     you   would    have    fellowes   in    your 
death,  90 

And  to  that  purpose  you  pretend,  I  know  not 
What  mysteries  of  art! 

Cla.  Speak  Amaryllis 

Is't  not  this  wolfe? 

Pilum.  Say,  virgin,  was  it  hee? 

Ama.       O,  I  am  angry  with  my  blood  for  stopping! 
This  coward  ebbe  against  my  will  betraies  mee;  95 
The  streame  is  turned,  my  eyes  run  faster  now. 

Pilum.     Can  you  accuse  my  sonne? 

A  mar.  By  Ceres,  no; 

I  have  no  heart  to  doe  it:  does  that  face 
Look  cruell?  doe  those  eyes  sparkle  with  hate, 
Or  malice?  Tell  me,  Father,  lookes  that  brow    100 
As  if  it  could  but  frowne?  Say,  can  you  thinke 
Tis  possible  Damon  could  have  the  heart 
To  wound  a  Virgin?  surely  barbarous  cruelty 
Dwels  not  in  such  a  brest:  mercy,  and  mildnesse, 
Courtesy,  love,  and  sweetnesse  breath  in  him,    105 

(81)  oth'  '38.  (99)  doe]  does  '52. 


AMTNTAS  325 

Not  Anger,  wrath,  or  murther;  Damon  was  not 
Fed  at  a  Thracian  teat,  Venn*  did  send 
Her  Doves  to  nurse  him,  and  can  he  be  cruell? 
Whence  should  he  learne  so  much  of  barbarisme 
As  thus  to  wrong  a  Virgin?  if  he  wound  mee      no 
Tis  only  from  his  eyes,  where  loves  blind  God 
Whets  his  pil'd  arrowes;  He  besides,  you  know, 
Had  never  cause  to  wrong  mee,  for  he  knowes 
Alwaies  I  lov'd  him:  Father,  doe  not  wrong 
An  innocent;  his  soule  is  white,  and  pure,  115 

Tis  sinne  to  thinke  there  lives  a  sinne  in  him; 
Impiety  to  accuse  him. 

Clai.  In  his  lookes 

He  carries  guilt,  whose  horror  breeds  this  strange 
And  obstinate  silence:  shame,  and  his  conscience 
Will  not  permit  him  to  deny  it. 

Amar.  Tis,  alas          120 

His  modest,  bashfull  nature,  and  pure  innocence, 
That  makes  him  silent:  think  you  that  bright  rose 
That  buds  within  his  cheekes,  was  planted  there 
By  guilt  or  shame?  no  he  has  alwaies  been 
So  unacquainted  with  all  act  of  sinne,  125 

That  but  to  be  suspected  strikes  him  dumb 
With  wonder  and  amazement.     For  by  Ceres 
(I  think  my  oath  be  lawfull)  I  my  selfe 
Was  cause  of  this. 

Cla.  Still  I  am  confident 

'Twas  hee.  13° 

Pilum.  It  is  your  envy  makes  you  so. 

(125)  acts '68. 


326  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

ScEN.  9. 
Alexis.     Laurinda. 

Lau.  I  will  Alexis, 

And  so  he  must  if  oathes  be  any  tye. 

Alex.        To   lovers   they   are   none,   we   break   those 

bonds 

As  easily  as  threds  of  silke:  A  bracelet 
Made  of  your  maidens  haire's  a  stronger  chaine     5 
Then    twenty    cobweb    oathes,    which    while   we 

break 

Venus  but  laughs:  it  must  be  your  perswasion 
That  works  him  to  it. 

Lau.  Damon,  you  must  stand 

To  what  you  promis'd,  how  shall  I  believe 
Those  other  oathes  you  sweare,  if  you  respect      10 
This  one  no  better?     It  was  my  device 
To  have  her  judge,  was  it  not,  Amaryllis? 
How,  all  in  blood! 

Cla.  Yes,  this  unmercifull  man 

(If  he  be  man  that  can  doe  such  a  crime) 
Has  wounded  her.  15 

Amar.  Indeed  it  was  not  hee. 

Pil.          You  see  her  selfe  frees  him. 

Lau.  When  last  we  left  her 

She  was  with  Damon. 

Amar.  Pray  believe  her  not, 

She  speaks  it  out  of  anger,  I  nere  saw 
Damon  to  day  before. 

Alex.  And  when  we  left  'em 

He  was  incens'd.  ao 

(6)  J  ;  *4ob,  ff.  (II)  ?]  :  '38.  (14)  be  *  man  '51. 


AMTNTAS  327 

A  mar.  You  are  no  competent  witnesse; 

You  are  his  Rivall  in  Laurinda's  love, 
And  speak  not  truth  but  malice;  'tis  a  plot 
To  ruin  innocence. 

Lau.  O  ungratefull  man! 

The  wolfe  that  does  devoure  the  brest  that  nurst 

it 

Is  not  so  bad  as  thou:  here,  here,  this  Letter       25 
Th'  eternall  Chronicle  of  affection, 
That  ought  with  golden  characters  to  be  writ 
In    Cupids    Annals,    will    (false    man)     convince 

thee 
Of  fowle  ingratitude:   you  shall  hear  me  read  it. 

The  Letter. 

Laurinda,  you  have  put  it  unto  mee  3° 

To  choose  a  husband  for  you,  I  will  be 

A  judge  impartially  upright,  just  and  true, 

Yet  not  so  much  unto  my  selfe  as  you. 
Alex.        Now  I  expect  to  hear  my  blessed  doome. 
Lau.        Alexis  well  deserves,  but  Damon  more',  35 

/  wish  you  him  I  wisbt  my  selfe  before. 
Alex.        O,  I  am  ruin'd  in  the  height  of  hope. 

How  like  the  hearb  Solstitiall  is  a  lover, 

Now  borne,  now  dead   again,   he  buds,  sprouts 
forth, 

Flourishes,  ripens,  withers  in  a  minute.  40 

Lau.         Take  him,  the  best  of  men,  that  ever  eye 

Beheld,  and  live  with  him  for  whom  I  dye. 

Amarillis. 

Here  look  on't.  — 

(")  ;3  ,  '38.  (*8)  Annall  '52. 


328  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Dam.  Writ  with  blood  ?  o  let  me  kisse 

My  bill  of  Accusation!  here  my  name  45 

Lookes  like  my  soule,  all  crimson,  every  line, 

Word,  syllable,  and  letter,  weares  the  livery 

Of  my  unnaturall  action.     Amarillis 

That  name  of  all  is  black,  which  was  alone 

Worthy  so  pretious  inke;  as  if  disdaining  50 

The  character  of  cruelty,  which  the  rest 

Were  cloath'd  in:  for  as  if  that  word  alone 

Did  weare  this  morning  colour,  to  bewaile 

The  funerall  of  my  vertue,  that  lies  buried  54 

Here  in  this  living  tombe,  this  moving  sepulchre. 

Lau.         Know  murtherer  I  hate  thy  bed,  and  thee, 
Unkind,  unthankfull  villaine. 

Ama.  Nay,  Laurinda, 

You  have  bound  your  selfe  to  stand  to  my  award; 
The  sentence  now  is  past,  and  you  must  love  him, 
It  cannot  be  revers'd;  you  are  deceiv'd,  60 

He  is  not  guilty  of  this  sinne,  his  love 
To  me  for  mine,  makes  him  against  his  conscience 
Seeme  to  confesse  it,  but  believe  him  not. 

Lau.        Nor  will  I,  he  is  all  falsehood,  and  ingratitude. 

Da.          Laurinda,  you  may  spare  in  this  harsh  lan- 
guage 65 
To  utter  your  dislike:  had  you  a  beauty 
More  than  immortall,  and  a  face  whose  glory 
Farre  outshind  angels,  I  would  make  my  choyce 
Here,  and  no  where  but  here;  her  vertue  now 
Moves  a  more  noble  flame  within  my  brest          7° 
Then  ere  your  beauty  did;  I  am  enamour'd 

(47)  weare  *4ob,  were  '52  wear  '62,  '68. 

($6)  murderer  '68  thee]  then  '52. 

(62)  To  me,  '38  To  me;  '403. 
(64)  I]  om.  '38. 


AMYNTAS  329 

More  of  her  soule,  then  ever  yet  I  doted 
Upon  your  face:  I  doe  confesse  the  fact; 
Pardon  me  vertuous  maid,  for  though  the  action 
Be   worthy    death,    the    object   most  condemnes 

mee! 

Take  me  to  death  Corymbus;  Amarillis,  76 

I  goe  to  write  my  story  of  repentance 
With    the    same    inke,    wherewith    thou    wrotes 

before 
The  legend  of  thy  love,  farewell,  farewell. 

Exeunt  Corymb.  Dam. 

Pit.          Laurinda,  and  Alexis,  doe  you  call  80 

The  Sheapheards,  and  the  virgins  of  Sicilia 
To  see  him  sacrific'd,  whose  death  must  make 
Their  loves  more  fortunate;  this  day  shall  be 
Happy  to  all  Sicilians,  but  to  mee.  84 

Yet  come  thou  cursed  Claius,  the  sweet  comfort 
Which  I  shall  take  when  my  revenge  is  done, 
Will  something  ease  the  sorrow  for  my  sonne. 
Clai.        Amarillis,  prethee  call  Amyntas  to  me, 
And  Thestylis:  I  fain  would  have  mine  eye 
Behold  them  once  again  before  I  dye.  9° 

Ex.  PH.  Cla. 
Ale.         Come    my    Laurinda,    through    how    many 

chances, 

Suspicions,  errors,  sorrowes,  doubts,  and  feares 
Love  leads  us  to  our  pleasures!  many  stormes 
Have  we  sail'd  through  my  Sweet,  but  who  could 

feare 

A  tempest,  that  had  hope  to  harbour  here?          95 

Ex.  Alex.  Lau. 

(78)  So  '403 :  all  other  editions]  wrote. 

(93)  ID  ;  '38. 

(95)  ?]  . '38, '40a, '68. 


330  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Amarillis  sola. 

Amar.      All,  all  but  the  distressed  Amarillis 

Are  happy,  or  lesse  wretched;  fair  Laurinda 

Is  ready  for  a  wedding,  old  Pilumnus 

Hath  lost  a  sonne,  yet  mitigates  his  griefe 

In  Claius  death,  my  father  Claius  dies,  100 

Yet  joyes  to  have  the  sonne  of  his  old  enemy 

A  partner  of  his  sorrowes;  my  father  looses 

Only  himselfe;  and  Damon  too  no  more; 

Amyntas  but  a  father,  onely  I 

Have  lost  all  these;  I  have  lost  Claius,  Damon,  105 

And  my  selfe  too;  A  father  with  Amyntas, 

And  all  the  rest  in  Damon,  and  which  more 

Affects  mee,  I  am  cause  of  all;  Pilumnus 

Had  not  else  lost  his  sonne,  nor  had  Amyntas 

Wept  for  a  Father,  nor  poore  Tbestylis  no 

Bewail'd  a  brother;  Damon  might  have  liv'd, 

And  Claius  but  for  mee;  all  circumstances 

Concurre  to  make  my  miseries  compleat, 

And  sorrowes  perfect:  for  I  lost  my  father 

As  soone  as  I  had  found  him,  and  my  Damon     115 

As  soone  as  I  had  found  he  lov'd  mee:  thus 

All  I  can  find  is  losse;  o  too  too  wretched, 

Distressed  virgin!  when  they  both  are  dead 

Visit  their  Ashes,  and  first  weepe  an  howre 

On  Claius  Vrne,  then  go,  and  spend  another       120 

At  Damons;  thence  again  goe  wet  the  tombe 

Of  thy  dead  father,  and  from  thence  returne 

Back  to  thy  lovers  grave;  thus  spend  thy  age 

In  sorrowes;  and  till  death  doe  end  thy  cares 

Betwixt  these  two  equally  share  thy  teares.         125 

Finis  Actus  quarti. 


c 


AMTNTAS  331 

AcTVS.   5.      SCEN.    I. 
Dory/a/,  and  a  Chorus  of  Swaines. 

Dor.          ^^"^Ome    neighbours,   let's    goe   see    the 

sacrifice 
Must  make  you  happy  lovers:    oh 

'twill  be 

A  fortunate  season!  Father  Coridon, 
You  and  old  mother  Baucis  shall  be  friends. 
The   sheepe-hooke   and   the   distaffe   shall   shake 
hands.  5 

You  lovely  freeze-coats,  nothing  now  but  kissing, 
Kissing  and  culling,  culling  and  kissing,  heighday! 
In  hope  it  will  be  one  day  so  with  mee 
I  am  content  to  live.     Now  let's  ascend. 

SCEN.  2. 
Alexis.  Laurinda.  Medorus. 

Alex.        Now  my  Laurinda,  now  (o  happy  now!) 
All  lets  that  stood  between  my  joy  and  mee 
Are  gone  and  fled. 

Lau.  Long,  o  too  long,  Alexis, 

My  doubtfull  fancy  wavered  whom  to  love, 
Damon,  or  you;  in  both  was  happinesse,  5 

But  double  happinesse  was  my  single  misery: 
So  far'd  it  once,  Alexis,  (for  I  well 
Remember  it)  with  one  of  my  poore  ewes, 
Equally  mov'd  between  two  tufts  of  grasse, 
This  tempting  one  way,  that  inticing  t'other,       10 

(i)  Oh  '40* 


332  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Now  she  would  this,  then  that,  then  this  againe, 
Vntill  poore  foole  (true  emblem  of  her  mistresse) 
Shee  almost  starv'd  in  choosing  which  to  feed  on; 
At  last  (so  heaven  pittied  the  innocent  foole) 
A  westerne  gale  nipt  one,  which  being  blasted      15 
Shee  fed  upon  the  other. 

Ale.          Pretty  fool!    lets  now  no  more  deferre  our 
nuptial  joyes. 

Med.        How  sweet  a  folly  is  this  love!     But  rash 

youth,  Alexis, 

(As  youth  is  rash)  runnes  indiscreetly  on 
While  mature  judgment  ripened  by  experience     20 
Stayes  for  loves  season. 

Alex.  Season  ?  why,  can  love 

Be  ever  out  of  season  ? 

Med.  Yes,  Alexis, 

Nothing's  borne  ripe,  all  things  at  first  are  greene. 

Alex.  Lau.   And  such  shall  our  affection  still  be  seene. 

Med.        You  are  to  hasty  reapers  that  doe  call.          25 
For  Sickles  in  the  spring. 

Alex.  Loves  harvest  shall; 

(Lovers  you  know)  his  harvest  ought  to  bee 
All  the  yeare  long. 

Lau.  In  Cupids  husbandry, 

Who  reapes  not  in  the  spring,  reapes  not  at  all. 

Med.        Woemen  indeed  too  soone  begin  their  fall.     3° 
Yet  till  curst  Claius  dye,  as  now  he  must, 
Alexis,  and  Laurinda,  let  my  counsell 
Asswage  the  heat  of  youth;  pray  be  perswaded 

(12)  Until  the  poor  fool  '68. 

(17)  Pretty  fool!]    These  words  of  Alexis  undoubtedly  belong  to  1.  16,  which 
it  metrically  incomplete,  while  1.17  is  complete  without  them. 

(18)  !]  ?  '38. 
(23)  •]  ,  '38. 

(26)  .]  :  '38  Loves,  '38. 


AM  TNT  AS  333 

A  little  for  to  deferre  your  nuptiall  blisse; 

'Tis  but  a  while.  .  35 

Alex.  A  while  in  lov's  an  age. 

Lau.         Maids  in  a  while  grow  cold. 
Med.  Temper  loves  fire. 

Alex.        'Tis  but  cold  love  that's  temperate  in  desire. 
Med.        Yet,  loving  paire,  stay  'till  a  fayrer  gale; 

He  deserves  shipwrack,  ('tis  the  Marriners  flout) 

And  justly  too,  that  in  a  storme  sets  out.  +o 

Lau.         I  will  suppresse  my  flame,  (ah  still  it  glowes.) 
Alex.        And  I,  but  how  unwilling  Cupid  knowes! 
Med.        Tis  well;   now  let's  goe  take  our  place,  to  see 

For  our  sad  griefes  a  sadder  remedy. 

(36)  Temper  love's  fire.     '6*. 


SCEN.    3. 

Amyntas.     Amarillis. 

Amar.      —  Yes,  it  was  he:  hee's  in  the  temple  brother, 
A  place  wherein  he  doth  deserve  a  shrine, 
Yet  is  to  him  a  prison;  can  you  Gods 
Suffer  the  place  that's  reard  unto  your  honours 
Be  made  so  vile  a  thing?  5 

Amyn.  Pray  give  me  entrance: 

I  am  not  mad,  (and  yet  I  would  I  were) 
Am  I  not  mad  to  wish  so?     Let  me  come 
And  see  him,  sure  you  had  your  selfe  a  father. 
Did  you  not  wish  to  see  him  ere  he  died  ? 
If  he  be  dead,  wee'l  only  pray  a  while,  10 

And  weep;  will  tears  pollute  the  hallowed  Ompha? 
For  we  must  shed  them,  yes,  we  cannot  choose: 

(10)  dead:  '38. 


334  THOM4S  RANDOLPH 

Come  sister,  he  will  let  us,  for  though  Lalage 
Was  our  sad  mother,  yet  the  Gods  will  let  us 
Weepe  for  her:  come,  come  Amarillis,  come.  15 

Exit. 

SCEN.    4. 

Mopus.     locastus. 

locast.      Brother,  aread,  what  meanes  his  graces  favour? 
Mop.        It  signifies  you  bear  the  bell  away, 

From  all  his  Graces  nobles. 
Jo.  Divinely  Augur'd; 

For  this  I'le  make  thee  Augur  to  his  grace. 
Mop.        Belwether  of  Knight-hood,  you  shall  bind  me 
to  you.  5 

lo.  I'le  have't  no  more  a  sheep-bell;  I  am  Knight 

Of  the  Mdlisonant  Tingletangle. 

Mop.      Sure   one  of  my   progeny;    tell   me   gratious 
brother, 

Was  this  Mdlisonant  Tingle  tangle  none 

Of  old  Actions  hounds?  10 

lo.  Ignorant  mortall ! 

Thou  dost  not  understand  the  termes  of  honour. 
Mop.        How  should    I    sir,  my   trees  bear  no  such 

apples: 

lo.  As  mine,  th'  Hesperian  fruit  are  crabbs  to 

mine, 

Hence  came  the  Knight-hood,  hence. 

(i)  aread,]  read,  '68.  (3)  ;3  !  '4ob,  ff.  (10)  !]  .  '38. 

(12)  How  should  I  sir?  my  trees  bearcs  no  such  apples.     *4ob,  ff. 

beares]  bear  '68. 
(14-16)  These  lines  should  probably  be  arranged  as  follows 

Hence  came  the  Knight-hood,  hence. 
Mop.  The  fame  whereof 

Rings  loud. 

lo.  We  know  it. 

Mop.  Foure  such  knight-hoods  more 


AMY  NT  AS  335 

Mop.       The  fame  whereof  rings  loud.  15 

Io.  We  know  it. 

Mop.        Foure  such  knight-hoods  more 

Would  make  an  excellent  peale. 

Io.  Tie  have  'em  so. 

Mop.        But  you  must  get  a  squirell  too. 
Io.  For  what? 

Mop.       To  ring  your  Knight-hoods. 
Io.  I'le  have  any  thing, 

His  grace  will  not  deny  me,  o  sweet  orchard. 
Mop.       To  see  the  fruit  that  came  of  such  an  orchard! 
Io.  But  shall  we  not  see  Claius  sacrific'd? 

Mop.       Oh  by  all  meanes. 

Io.  But  how  deserv'd  he  death  ? 

Mop.       No  matter  for  deserving  it  or  no; 

Tis  fit  he  suffer  for  example  sake. 
Io.  And  not  offend  ? 

Mop.  Tis  fit  he  should  offend. 

They  take  their  places. 

(to)  ,]  .  '68  .]  !  Uob,  ff. 


SCEN.    5. 

Pilumnus  with  a  sacrificing  knife,  fire  laid  on  the 
Altar,  a  Priest  holding  a  Taper  ready  to  kindle  it, 
another  Priest  powring  water  on  Claius  head,  who 
was  bound:  Corymbus  leading  out  Damon  bound. 

Pil.          Sicilians,  Nature  and  religion 

Are  at  contention  in  mee:  my  sad  soule 
Divided  'twixt  my  Goddesse  and  my  sonne, 
Would  in  her  strange  distractions,  either  have  mee 


336  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Turne  Parricide  or  Apostate:  Awefull  Ceres,          3 
For  whom  I  feed  the  fattest  of  my  Lambs, 
To  whom  I  send  the  holiest  of  my  prayers 
Vpon  the  smoaky  wings  of  sweetest  myrrhe, 
Instruct  thy  doubtful  Flamenl  As  I  cannot 
Forget  I  am  thy  priest:  for  sooner  shall  10 

Our  Lambs  forget  to  feed,  our  swaines  to  sing, 
Our  Bees  forget  first,  from  the  fruitfull  Thyme 
To  cull  them  baggs  of  Nectar:  every  thing 
Forget  his  nature,  ere  I  can  forget 
I  am  thy  Priest:  Nor  can  I  but  remember  15 

That  Damon  is  my  sonne:  yet  take  him  Ceres! 
You  need  not  powre  water  upon  his  head, 
Fie  doe  it  with  my  teares.     Ceres,  I  hope 
Thy  anger  will  not  bind  the  Fathers  eye 
To  look  into  the  Bowels  of  his  sonne,  20 

I'le  therefore  first  spill  on  thy  hallowed  Altar 
This  Captives  blood;  and  then  retire  my  selfe 
Not  to  be  present  at  my  Damons  death, 
Least  nature  might  turne  Rebell  to  devotion. 

Song. 

Ceres,  to  whom  we  owe  that  yet  25 

We  doe  not  Mast  and  Acornes  eat: 

That  didst  provide  us  better  meat, 

The  purest  flower  of  finest  wheat. 

This  bloud  we  spill  at  thy  desire 

To  kindle  and  to  quench  a  fire.  30 

0  let  it  quench  thy  flame  of  ire, 

And  kindle  mercies  more  entire. 

(9)  A»]  as  '4ob,  '52.  (30)  a  ire.  '38     an  ire.     '40*. 

(19)  blind  '68.  (31)  ire^fire,  '38,  '40*. 


AMYNTAS  337 

0  let  this  guilty  bloud  atone 

For  every  poore  unlucky  one; 

Nymph,  or  Swain,  who  ere  doe  grone  35 

Vnder  sad  Loves  imperious  throne. 

That  Love  a  happier  age  may  see 

In  thy  long  torturd  Sicily. 

That  blood  which  must  tV  Attonement  bee 

Thus  Goddesse,  thus,  we  pay  to  thee\  40 

Amyntas.     Amarillis. 

Amy.       Stay,  stay  that  impious  hand,  whose  hasty 

zeale 

Thinks  murther  can  appease  the  Goddesse  wrath! 
If  it  be  murther  must  appease  her  wrath, 
What  is't  can  move  her  anger?  Doe  not  then, 
Doe  not  pollute  her  Altar,  least  it  keep  45 

The  crimsod  staine  of  bloud,  and  blush  for  ever, 
At  this  too  cruell,  ignorant  devotion. 

Pil.          Avoid  the  mad  man. 

Amyn.  Why  Pilumnus,  Why? 

By  the  dread  Ompha,  spare  this  guilty  blood, 
And  I'le  expound  the  Oracle.  50 

What  fire  has  yet  his  bloud  or  quench't  or  kindled  ? 

Pil.          Why  it  hath  quench't  the  sadder  flames  of 

love, 
And  more  auspitious  fires  begin  to  move. 

Amyn.     Where?  in  what  brest?  No  love  in  all  Trinacria 
But  under  Cupids  scepter  faints  and  groanes       55 
More  now  then  ever.     Thy  unfortunate  Damon, 
And  more  unfortunate  Amarillis  stand 
A  sad  example;  Thy  Vrania 

(33)  at  one  '4ob,  '52.  (51)  Amyn.  What  fire  hat 

(42)  murder  '4Ob,  ff.  (54)  Where  in?    in  what  '68. 

(43)  murder  '52,  ff. 


338  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

(O  sad  sweet  name!)  may  with  her  poore  Amintas 

Witnesse  his  tyrannous  reigne:  here  in  Sicilia      60 

Turtles  grow  jealous,  Doves  are  turn'd  unchast, 

The  very  Pellicans  of  Trinacrean  woods 

Are  found  unnaturall,  and  thirst  the  bloud 

Of  their  young  brood,  (alas  who  can  believe  it?) 

Whom  they  were  wont  to  suckle  with  their  own.  65 

O  wretched  season !     Bitter  fruits  of  love ! 

The  very  Storks  with  us  are  Parricides. 

Nay  even  the  senselesse  trees  are  sensible 

Of  this  imperious  rage:  the  gentle  Vine 

(The  happy  embleme  once  of  happier  Lovers)      70 

That  with  such  amorous  twines  and  close  imbraces 

Did  cling  about  the  loved-loving  elme, 

With  slacker  branches  now  falls  down  and  withers: 

If  then  to  adde  more  fuell  to  the  flame, 

To  powre  in  oyle  and  sulphure  be  to  quench  it,   75 

The  flame  is  quench'd.     Nor  are   you   hee,  Pi- 

lumnus, 

That  must  expound  the  Oracle,  'Tis  a  witt 
Such  as  mine  is  neglected,  that  must  hit 
The  Goddesse  meaning:  you,  the  living  Oracle    79 
Of  Sicilify  the  breathing  Ompba  of  the  Kingdome 
Will  misconceive  the  Goddesse;  you  are  wise 
Skil'd  in  the  vertues  of  all  herbs,  and  flowers, 
What  makes  our  Ewes  can  best,  what  keeps  them 

sound; 

Can  tell  us  all  the  mysteries  of  heaven, 
The  number,  height,  and  motion  of  the  starres;    85 
Tis  a  mad  brain,  an  intellect  you  scorne 
That  must  unty  this  riddle. 

(60)  Witnesse  his  tyrannous  reigne  here  in  Sicilia.     '406,  ff. 

(83)  can]  can  *4Ob,  '52   them]  the  '38.   ;]  ?  '52. 

(86)  an]  and  '68  intellect,  '38.  (87)  unite  Uob,  'ja. 


AMYNTAS  339 

Pil.  But  I  know 

The  wrath  of  Ceres  cannot  be  appeas'd 

But  by  the  bloud  of  Claius. 
Amy.  So  it  is. 

Pil.          How  can  that  bee?  yet  his  accursed  gore       90 

Hath  not  imbru'd  the  Altar. 
Amyn.  But  his  bloud 

Hath  been  already  shed  in  Amarillis: 

Shee  is  his  bloud,  so  is  Vrania  yours, 

And  Damon  is  your  bloud;  That  is  the  bloud 

The  Goddesse  aimes  at,  that  must  still  her  ire,    95 

For  her  bloud  hath  both  quench't  and  kindled 

fire. 

Pil.          What  hath  it  quencht  or  kindled  ? 
Amyn.  Love,  the  fire 

That   must   be   quench't   and   kindled.     Damons 
love 

To  his  Laurinda  in  that  bloud  extinguish'd, 

Is  by  that  powerfull  bloud  kindled  anew  100 

To  Amarillis,  now  grown  his  desire: 

Thus  Claius  bloud  hath  quench't  and  kindled  fire. 
All.          Amyntas,  Amyntas,  Amyntas,  Amyntas. 
Pil.          And  is  the  fire  of  my  Damon  kindled 

But  to  be  quench't  againe:  Ceresl  a  frost  105 

Dwell  on  thy  Altars,  ere  my  zeale  renew 

Religious  fires  to  warme  'em. 
Amyn.  Spare  these  blasphemies, 

For  Damon  is  acquitted  &  assoil'd 

Of  any  trespasse. 
Pil.  How  Amyntas?  speake! 

Thou  that  hast  sav'd  a  Father,  save  a  sonne.      no 

(98)  must]  nrnst  '38. 

(105)  :]  !  '68         !]  ,  '61,  '68. 


340  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Amyn.     Thus,  Amarillis  is  the  Sacrifice 

The  Goddesse  aim'd  at:  and  the  bloud  of  Sacrifice 

(As  you  all  know)  may  lawfully  be  spilt 

Even  in  the  Holy  vale,  and  so  it  was; 

Besides  your  Damon  is  a  Priest  by  birth,  115 

And  therefore  by  that  Title,  he  may  spill 

The  sacrifized  Amarillis  bloud. 

If  this  interpretation  be  not  true, 

Speak  you  Sicilians,  Fie  be  judg'd  by  you. 

All.          Amyntas,  Amyntas,  Amyntas,  Amyntas.        120 

Pil.          Amyntas,  thou  hast  now  made  full  amends 
For  my  Pbilfbus  death;  Claius  all  envy, 
Envy  the  viper  of  a  venemous  soule 
Shall  quit  my  brest:  This  is  the  man,  Sicilians, 
The  man  to  whom  you  owe  your  liberties;  125 

Goe  Virgins,  and  with  Roses  strow  his  way, 
Crowne  him  with  violets,  and  lilly  wreathes; 
Cut  off  your  golden  tresses,  and  from  them 
Weave  him  a  robe  of  love:  Damon,  pay  here 
The  debt  of  duty  that  thou  ow'st  to  mee;  130 

Hence  was  thy  second  birth. 

Da.  Or  hither  rather: 

The  Balsame  of  Sicilia  flowed  from  hence, 
Hence  from  this  scarlet  torrent,  whose  each  drop 
Might  ransome  Cupid  were  he  captive  tane. 

Amaril.   How  much  owe   I   my  Damon,  whose   blest 
hand  i3S 

Made  mee  the  publique  sacrifice!  could  I  shed 
As  many  drops  of  blood,  even  from  the  heart 
As  Arethusa  drops  of  water  can, 
I  would  outvie  her  at  the  fullest  tide, 
That  other  Virgins  loues  might  happy  be,  14° 

And  mine  my  Damon  be  as  blest  in  thee. 

(ill),]: '62     ; '68.  (118)  sacrificed '403,  ff. 


AMYNTAS  341 

Clai.        O  what  a  showre  of  joy  falls  from  mine  eyesl 
The  now  too  fortunate  Claiusl  my  Amyntas, 
My  Amarillis,  how  shall  I  divide 
My  teares  and  joyes  betwixt  you!  145 

Pil.  Lovers  come, 

Come  all  with  flowry  chaplets  on  your  browes, 
And  singing  Hymmes  to  Ceres,  walk  around 
This  happy  village;  to  expresse  our  glee 
This  day  each  yeare  shall  Cupids  triumphs  bee. 

Amyn.     Still  my  impossible  Dowry  for  Frania          150 
Leaves  mee  unfortunate  in  the  mid'st  of  joy; 
Yet  out  of  piety  I  will  heere  a  while 
(Though  blest  I  am  not  'till  she  be  my  bride) 
In  publique  joyes  lay  private  griefes  aside.          154 
Exeunt  cum  Cboro  cantantium. 

Io.  And   Fie  goe   fetch    the    youngsters    of  the 

towne, 

The  mortall  Fairies,  and  the  lasses  browne, 
To  bring  spic'd  cakes,  and  ale,  to  dance  and  play, 
Queen  Mob  her  selfe  shall  keepe  it  holy-day.  Exit. 

Mop.        Ah  Dorilas  that  I  could  not  have  the  wit 

To  have  been  a  mad  man  rather  then  a  foole.     160 
I  have  lost  the  credit. 

Dor.  Tis  no  matter 

You  shall  have  Thestylis. 

Mop.  Shall  I,  Dorylast 

I  had  as  live  interpret  her  as  Oracles. 

Dor.         And  here  she  comes,  give  me  your  quail  pipe, 
harke  you. Exit. 

Enter  Thestylis. 

(148)  ;]  ,  '403,  ff.  (160)  mad-man  '68. 

(*i$4)  constantium  '52.  (i6a)  .]  ,  '38. 

dS7)  Play-  '68. 


342  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Mop.        Now,    Thestylis,    thou    shalt    mine   Oracle 

bee,  165 

Hence  forth  I  will  interpret  none  but  thee. 
Thes.       Why  haue  the  birds  (my  Mopsus)  councel'd 

so? 

Mop.       They  say  I  must,  whether  you  will  or  noe. 
Thes.        How  know  I  that? 

Mop.  The  birds  doe  speak  it  plain. 

Dorilas  with  a  quaile  pipe. 

Harke,  Tbestylis,  the  birds  say  so  again.  170 

Thes.        I  understand  them  not. 
Mop.  Will  you  be  judg'd 

By  th'  next  we  meet? 
Thes.  Mopsus,  I  am  content, 

So  you  will  stand  unto  it  as  well  as  I. 
Mop.        By  Ceres,  Tbestylis,  most  willingly. 

Enter  Dorylas. 

Mop.       Ah  Dorilus,  heard  you  what  the  birds  did 
say?  175 

Dor.         I  Mopsus,  you  are  a  happy  man  to  day. 
Mop.       What  said  they  boy? 

Dor.  As  if  you  did  not  know. 

Mop.        But  Thestylis. 
Dor.  Why  sure  she  understands  it, 

Have  you  to  her  this  language  never  read? 
Mop.        No,  Dorylas,  I  can  teach  her  best  in  bed.     180 
Dor.         The  Birds  said  twice:    (as  you  full  well  doe 
know) 

You  must  have  Tbestylis  whether  she  will  or  no. 


(167)  counsel'd  '4°b>,  ff. 

('169)  This  stage  direction  is  in    the  margin  opposite  11.  169-170  in  the  old 
editions. 

(177)  Dor.]  Mop.  '62. 


AMYNTAS  343 

Tbfs.       And  am  I  caught  ?   Tis  no  great  matter  though; 

For  this  time  Mopsus  I  will  marry  thee; 

The  next  I  wed,  by  Pan,  shall  wiser  bee!  185 

Mop.        And  have  I  got  thee?  thankes  my  witty  boy. 
Do.  Harke,  Tbestylis,  the  birds  doe  bid  you  joy. 

Thes.  For  fooling  Mopsus,  now  'tis  time  give  ore. 
Mop.  Mad  man  I  may,  but  will  be  foole  no  more. 
Thes.  Mad  after  marriage  as  a  foole  before.  190 

For  hee's  a  foole  that  weds,  all  wives  being  bad; 

And  shee's  a  foole  makes  not  her  husband  mad. 

(188)  ,]  ;  '62,  '68. 


SCEN.    6. 

locastus  with  a  Morrice,  bimselfe  maid 
Marrian,  Bromius  the  Clowne. 

Dor.         See,    Mopsus,    see,    here    comes    your   Fairy 

brother, 

Hark  you,  for  one  good  turne  deserves  another. 

Exeunt  Dor.  Mop. 

locast.      I  did  not  think  there  had  been  such  delight 
In  any  mortall  Morrice,  they  doe  caper 
Like  quarter  Fairies  at  the  least:    by  my  Knight- 
hood, 5 
And  by  this  sweet  Mellisonant  Tingle  tangle, 
The  ensigne  of  my  glory,  you  shall  bee 
Of  Oberons  Revels. 

Bro.  What  to  doe  I  pray? 

To  dance  away  your  Apples? 

(7)  of]  or  '52. 

(9)  your]  our  ',+ob,  ff.  ?]  .  '38. 


344  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

locas.  Surely  mortall, 

Thou  art  not  fit  for  any  office  there.  10 

Enter  Dory  las  like  the  King  of  Fairies.    Mopsus. 
lo.  See,  blind  mortall,  see, 

With  what  a  port,  what  grace,  what  majesty 

This  princely  Oberon  comes,  your  Grace  is  welcome. 
Do.          A  beauteous  Lady,  bright  and  rare, 

Queen  Mab  her  selfe  is  not  so  faire.  15 

lo.  Does  your  grace  take  me  for  a  woman  then? 

Do.          Yes  beauteous  virgin;  Thy  each  part 

Has  shot  an  arrow  through  my  heart; 

Thy  blazing  eye,  thy  lip  so  thinne, 

Thy  azure  cheek,  &  christall  chinne,  20 

Thy  rainbow  brow,  with  many  a  rose; 

Thy  saphyre  eares,  and  ruby  nose, 

All  wound  my  soule,  O  gentle  be 

Or  Lady  you  will  ruin  mee.  24 

lo.  Bromius,  what  shall  I  doe?  I  am  no  woman! 

If  geelding  of  me  will  preserve  your  grace, 

With  all  my  heart. 
Bro.  No  master,  let  him  rather 

Steale  away  all  your  orchard  Apples. 
lo.  I  and  shall, 

Beauteous  Queen  Mab  may  loose  her  longing  else. 
Do.  How's  this  ?  are  you  no  woman  then  ?  30 

Can  such  bright  beauty  live  with  men  ? 
lo.  An't  please  your  grace,  I   am   your  Knight 

locastus. 
Do.  Indeed  I  thought  no  man  but  hee 

Could  of  such  perfect  beauty  bee. 
lo.  Cannot  your  Grace  distill  me  to  a  woman?  35 

(28)  I,  and  he  shall,  '62,  '68. 
(35)  G  •  '38,  Uoa,  *4ob. 


AMTNTAS  345 

Do.          I  have  an  hearb,  they  Moly  call, 

Can  change  thy  shape  (my  sweet)  and  shall. 

To  tast  this  Moly  but  agree, 

And  thou  shalt  perfect  woman  bee. 
lo.  With  all  my  heart;  nere  let  me  move  40 

But  I  am  up  to  th'  eares  in  love. 

But  what  if  I  doe  marry  thee? 
Do.          My  Queene  locasta  thou  shalt  bee: 
lo.  Sweet  Moly  I    pray  let  Bromius  have  some 

Moly  too, 

Hee'l  make  a  very  pretty  waiting  maid.  45 

Bro.         No  indeed  forsooth,  you  have  Ladies  enough 

already. 
Do.  Halfe  your  estate  then  give  to  mee, 

Else,  you  being  gone,  there  none  will  be, 

Whose  Orchard  I  dare  here  frequent. 
lo.  Sweet  Oberon,  I  am  content.  50 

Do.          The  other  halfe  let  Mopsus  take. 
lo.  And  Tbestylis  a  joynture  make. 

Bro.         Why  master,  are  you  mad  ? 
lo.  Your  mistresse  sirrah. 

Our  grace  has  said  it,  and  it  shall  be  so. 
Bro.         What,  will  you  give  away  all  your  estate?     55 
lo.  We  have  enough  beside  in  Fairy  land. 

You  Thestylis  shall  be  our  maid  of  honour. 
Tbes.        I  humbly  thank  your  Grace. 
lo.  Come  Princely  Oberon, 

I  long  to  tast  this  Moly  :  pray  bestow  59 

The  Knight-hood  of  the  Mettisonant  Tingle  tangle, 

Vpon  our  brother  Mopsus,  we  will  raise 

All  of  our  house  to  honours. 


(37)  Can]  C  an.  '38.  (47)  A>.]  lo.  '52.  (62)  honour  '6a,  '68. 

(41)  the  cares  "4Ob,  '52.  (55)  away]  em.  '62,  '68. 


346  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Mop.  Gracious  sister! 

Jo.  I  alwaies  thought  I  was  borne  to  be  a  Queene. 

Do.  Come  let  us  walke,  majestique  Queene, 

Of  Fairy  mortalls  to  be  scene.  65 

In  chaires  of  Pearle  thou  plac't  shalt  bee, 

And  Empresses  shall  envy  thee, 

When  they  behold  upon  our  throne 

locasta  with  her Dorilas. 

All.          Ha,  ha,  ha!  7° 

lo.  Am  I  deceiv'd  and  cheated,  guld  and  fool'd? 

Mop.       Alas  sir  you  were  borne  to  be  a  Queene. 
lo.  My  lands,  my  livings,  and  my  orchard  gone? 

Dor.         Your  grace  hath  said  it,  and  it  must  be  so. 
Bro.         You  have  enough  beside  in  Fairyland.  75 

Tbes.       What  would  your  Grace  command  your  maid 

of  honour? 
Dor.         Well  I  restore  your  lands:  only  the  orchard 

I  will  reserve  for  fear  Queen  Mob  should  long. 
Mop.        Part  I'le  restore  unto  my  liberall  sister 

In  leiw  of  my  great  Knighthood.  80 

Thes.  Part  give  I. 

lo.  I  am  beholding  to  your  liberality. 

Bro.         I'le  some  thing  give  as  well  as  doe  the  rest, 

Take  my  fooles  coat,  for  you  deserve  it  best. 
lo.  I  shall  grow  wiser. 

Dor.  Oberon  will  be  glad  on't. 

Thfs.       I  must  goe  call  Vrania  that  she  may  85 

Come  vow  Virginity.  Exit. 

(77)  orchar'd  '38. 
(84)  on't  '38. 


AMTNTAS  347 

SCEN.  7. 
Pilumnus.     Amyntas.     l3c. 

Amyn.  Ceres,  I  doe  thank  thee, 

That  I  am  author  of  this  publique  joy: 
But  is  it  justice  (Goddesse)  I  alone 
Should  have  no  share  in't?     Every  one  I  see 
Is  happy  but  my  selfe  that  made  'em  so,  5 

And  my  Vrania  that  should  most  be  so. 
I  thirst  amid  the  Bowles;  when  others  sit 
Quaffing  off  Nectar,  I  but  hold  the  cup; 
And  stand  a  sadder  tantalus  of  love, 
Starving  in  all  this  plenty;  Cere's  Demand  10 

Feeds    me    with    gall;     stretching    my    doubtfull 

thoughts 

On  many  thousand  racks:  I  would  my  Dowry 
Was  all  the  gold  of  Tagus,  or  the  ore 

Of  bright  Pactolus  channell: But,  Vrania, 

Tis  hid,  alas  I  know  not  what  it  is.  15 

SCEN.  8. 
Vrania.     Tbestylis. 

My  Thestylisy  since  first  the  Sea-gods  Trident 
Did  rule  the  small  three  pointed  peece  of  earth 
Of  this  our  conquering  soile,  it  has  not  been 
A  place  of  so  much  story  as  to  day, 
So  full  of  wonders:  O  'twill  serve  (my  Tbestylis)    5 
For  our  discourse  when  we  goe  fold  our  Ewes, 
Those  Sheapheards  that  another  day  shall  keep 

(l)  This  line  not  indented  in  '38,  '401,  '4°t>,  '52. 
(6)  fol'd  '38. 


348  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

Their  Kiddes  upon  these  mountaines  shall  for  ever 
Relate  the  miracle  to  their  wondring  Nymphs, 
Of  my  Vrania\  it  will  fill  their  eares  10 

With  admiration. 

Thfs.  Sir,  Vrania  s  here. 

Amyn.     How!  is  this  habit!    This  me  thinks  befits  not 
A  Lover,  my  Vrania. 

Vra.  Yes,  Amyntas. 

This  habit  well  befits  a  Virgins  life. 
For  since  my  Dowry  never  can  be  paid  15 

Thus  for  thy  sake  Fie  live  and  dye  a  maid. 

Amyn.         O  is  it  just,  so  faire  a  one  as  you 

Should  vow  Virginity  ?  must  the  sacred  womb 
Of  my  Vrania  fit  to  have  brought  forth 
A  fruitfull  race  of  Gods,  be  ever  barren?  20 

Never  expect  Lucina?  shall  this  beauty 
Live  but  one  age?   how  curs'd  is  our  posterity 
That  shall  have  no  Vrania  s\  can  one  Tombe 
Contain  all  goodnesse?   Ceres  rather  blast 
The  corne  thou  gav'st  us:    let  the  earth  grow 
barren;  25 

These  trees,  and  flowers  wither  eternally; 
Let  our  Plowes  toyle  in  vaine,  and  let  there  be 
No  more  a  harvest:  Every  losse  is  small, 
Yea   though   the   Pbcenix   selfe   should  burne  to 

ashes 

And  nere  revive  again!     But  let  there  be  30 

Some  more  Vrania' s 

Pilum.  'Tis  necessity, 

We  must  obey. 

Amyn.  But  yet  Vrania, 

I  hope  we  may  sometimes  come  pray  together; 

(22)  curs'd  is]  curs' d's  Uob,  '52. 


AMTNTAS  349 

Tis   not  prophane,  and   mid'st  our  sacred  Ori- 
sons 35 
Change  a  chast  kisse  or  two;  or  shall  I  too 

Turne  Virgin  with  thee? But  I  foole  my  selfe, 

The  Gods  intend  to  crosse  us,  and  in  vaine 
We  strive  (Vrania)  to  crosse  them  again. 
Vrania  kneeling  before  the  Ompba. 
Fran.       Great    Ceres,    for   thy   daughter   Proserpine* 
sake  40 

Ravisht  by  Pluto  from  Sicilian  plaines 
To  raigne  with  him  Queen  of  Elysian  shades, 
Accept  the  sacrifice  of  a  Virgin,  for 
It  is  thy  Pleasure,  thine,  by  whom  the  earth 
And  every  thing  growes  fruitfull,  to  have  mee     45 
Be  ever  barren:  Thy  impossible  Dowry, 
Makes  me  despaire  to  be  Amyntas  bride; 
Therefore  that  cold  chast  snow  that  never  should 
Have  melted  but  betwixt  his  amorous  armes 
I  vow  unto  thy  Cloyster  (Awfull  Goddesse!)        50 
Almighty  Ceres,  is  not  this  life  holy? 

Echo.       Folly. 
Better  then  live  in  an  unhappy  love? 

EC.   Happy  love. 
Be  judge  ye  woods,  &  let  Amyntas  speak. 

EC.  Amyntas,  speak. 
Pil.          The  Goddesse  is  well  pleas'd,  she  daines  to 

answer 

By  gracious  Echo's;  goe  Amyntas  speak.  55 

Amyn.     Why,  will  she  answer  mee  before  Frania? 
No,  'twas  the  musique  of  her  Angels  voice, 
Whose  heavenly  Accents  with  such  charming  notes 
Ravish'd  the  Goddesse  eares,  she  could  not  choose 

(51)  ?]o«.  '38. 


350  THOMAS   RANDOLPH 

But  bear  a  part  in  that  harmonious  song;  60 

Yet  if  she  will  after  such  melody 
Endure  to  hear  the  harsh  Amyntas  speak. 

EC.         Amyntas,  speak. 
When  wilt  thou  think  my  torments  are  enow? 

EC.         Now. 
Alas,  how  is  it  possible  I  should  hope  it? 

Echo.         Hope  it. 
How  shall  I  pay  the  Dowry  that  you  aske  mee?    65 

Echo.        Aske  mee. 
I  aske  a  Dowry  to  be  made  a  Husband. 

Echo.        A  Husband. 
Answer  directly  to  what  I  said  last. 

Echo.         What  I  said  last. 
A  Husband,  Ceres?  Why  is  that  the  guesse? 

EC.        Yes. 

That  which  I  have  not,  may  not,  cannot  have, 

I  have  not,  may  not,  cannot  have  a  Husband.      70 
Tis  true,  I  am  a  man,  nor  would  I  change 
My  sexe,  to  be  the  Empresse  of  the  world. 
Vrania,  take  thy  Dowry,  'tis  my  selfe; 
A  Husband,  take  it. 
Fran.  Tis  the  richest  Dowry 

That  ere  my  most  ambitious  praiers  could  beg!     75 
But  I  will  bring  a  portion,  my  Amyntas, 
Shall  equall  it,  if  it  can  equall'd  bee: 
That  which  I  have  not,  may  not,  cannot  have 
Shall  be  thy  portion,  'tis  a  wife,  Amyntas. 
Amyn.     Should  greater  Queenes  wooe  mee  in  all  their 
Pride,  80 

And  in  their  laps  bring  me  the  wealth  of  worlds, 
I  should  prefer  this  portion  'fore  the  best: 

(79)  .]  om.  '38.  (82)  'fore]  for  '4ob,  ff. 


AMYNTAS  351 

Thankes  Ceres,  that  hast  made  us  both  be  blest. 

Echo.         Be  blest. 

Clai.         Pilumnus,  let  us  now  grow  young  againe, 

And  like  two  trees  robb'd  of  their  leafy  boughes  85 
By  winter,  age,  and  Boreas  keener  breath, 
Sprout  forth  and  bud  again:  This  spring  of  joy 
Cuts  forty  yeares  away  from  the  gray  summe. 
Once  more  in  triumph  let  us  walke  the  Village  1 

Pilum.     But  first  I  will  intreat  this  company  90 

To  deigne  to  take  part  in  this  publique  joy. 

Pilumnus  Epilogizes. 

All  Loves  are  happy,  none  with  us  there  bee, 
Now  sick  of  coynesse,  or  unconstancy. 
The  wealthy  summes  of  Kisses  doe  amount 
To  greater  scores  then  curious  art  can  count! 
Each  eye  is  fix'd  upon  his  Mistris  face,  5 

And  every  arme  is  lock't  in  some  embrace. 
Each  cheeke  is  dimpled;  every  lip  doth  smile: 
Such  happinesse  I  wish  this  blessed  Isle, 
This  little  world  of  Lovers:  and  least  you 
Should  think  this  bliss e  no  reall  joyes,  nor  true,       10 
Would  every  Lady  in  this  orbe  might  see 
Their  Loves  as  happy  as  we  say  they  be! 
And  for  you  gentle  youths,  whose  tender  hearts 
Are  not  shot  proof  e  'gainst  love  and  Cupids  darts; 
These  are  my  Prayrs,   (I  would  those  prayrs  were 
charmes}  IS 

That  each  had  here  his  Mistrisse  in  his  armes. 
True  Lovers,  (for  tis  truth  gives  love  delight) 
To  you  our  Author  only  means  to  write. 

(18)  Authort  '38  wright  '38. 


352  THOMAS  RANDOLPH 

If  he  have  pleas' d  (as  yet  he  doubtfull  stands} 

For  his  applause  clap  lips  instead  of  Hands.  20 

He  beggs  nor  Bayes,  nor  Ivy;  only  this, 

Seale  his  wisht  Plaudite  with  an  amorous  Kisse. 

Exeunt  Cantantes. 


FINIS. 


NOTES 


NOTES 
ON  THE  INTRODUCTORY  POEMS 

ROBERT  RANDOLPH.  The  brother  of  the  poet.    See  p.  27. 

I.  T.  A.  M.   Probably  this  is  Jerameel  Terrent,  M.A.,  who  was  a 

graduate  of  Westminster  School  and  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford. 

He  was  well  known  as  a  tutor  at  Oxford  and  later  became  rector 

of  Clewer,  Berkshire. 

THO.  TERRENT.  He  also  was  a  graduate  of  Westminster  School  and 
of  Christ  Church,  and  served  as  curate  of  Bensington.  He 
contributed  to  a  number  of  collections  of  Oxford  poems. 

R.  BRIDE-OAKE.  Ralph  Bridecake  (1613-1678),  a  graduate  of  Brase- 
nose  College,  Oxford.  In  1634  he  was  made  Prochaplain  of  New 
College,  and  was  afterward  Bishop  of  Chichester  and  Master 
of  the  Manchester  Free  Grammar  School. 

ED.  GAYTON.  Edmund  Gaytoun  or  Gayton,  one  of  the  "Sons  of 
Ben."  He  was  a  fellow  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  and, 
according  to  Wood,  was  the  author  of  a  number  of  works  "some 
good,  others  most  vain  and  trashy  things." 

G.  W.  Joan.  Apparently  George  Wilde  (i6io-:665),  a  graduate  of 
St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  where  he  became  a  fellow  in  1631; 
in  1635  he  was  incorporated  at  Cambridge.  He  was  considered 
a  wit  in  his  younger  days,  and  it  was  his  play  which  was  acted 
before  the  royal  party  in  the  College  Hall  in  1636.  He  was 
chaplain  to  Archbishop  Laud,  and  after  the  Restoration  became 
Bishop  of  Derry. 

los.  HOWE.  Josias  Howe,  a  graduate  and  fellow  of  Trinity  College, 
Oxford.  Wood  says  that  he  has  "several  copies  of  verses  that 
are  extant  in  various  books  which  shew  him  to  have  been  a  good 
poet." 

OWEN  FELTHAM.  (i6o2?-i668),  best  known  for  his  Resolves,  a  series 
of  moral  essays.  See  p.  359. 

R.  GOSTELOW.  Richard  Gostelow,  who  was  graduated  B.A.  from 
Corpus  Christi,  Oxford,  in  1631  (as  Gorstelow)  and  M.A.  in  1634. 

355 


356  NOTES 

When  he  in  Cambridge  Scbooles  did  moderate, 

The  Moderator  was  the  person  chosen  to  preside  over  the 
"disputations"  or  exercises  in  the  University  Schools  required 
of  all  candidates  for  degrees. 

Ric.  WEST.  This  Richard  West  was  not,  according  to  our  present 
terminology,  the  "  brother-in-law"  of  the  poet;  he  was  the  son  of 
Randolph's  step-mother  and  her  first  husband,  Thomas  West,  of 
Cotton  End.  See  p.  5. 


NOTES  ON  THE  POEMS 

p.  73.   IN  ANGUEM,  QUI  LYCORIN  DORMIENTEM  AMPLEXUS  EST. 

In  the  original  editions  this  poem  is  preceded  by  a  Latin 
version  which  bears  this  title,  while  the  English  one  is  headed 
simply  Englished  thus  11apa<j>p<T(TTu<&s. 

p.  78,  /.  13.   A  third  speaks  raptures,  and  hath  gaind  a  wit 

By  praising  Cezlia, 

This  is  apparently  a  reference  to  the  poems  of  Carew,  which 
were  not,  however,  published  until  1640. 

p.  84.  A  GRATULATORY  TO  Mr  BEN  JOHNSON. 

See  the  story  of  Randolph's  "adoption"  given  in  the  intro- 
duction, p.  12,  and  his  own  account  given  on  p.  84.  Baker 
tells  us  (Biog.  Dram.  2,  590)  that  Jonson  "  admitted  him  as  one 
of  his  adopted  Sons  in  the  Muses,  and  held  him  in  equal  Esteem 
with  the  ingenious  Mr.  Cartwright." 

p.  86  /.  57.    To  cure  thy  Palsie; 

Jonson,  according  to  his  own  statement,  was  first  stricken 
with  the  palsy  in  the  year  1628. 

IN  LESBIAM,  &  HISTRIONEM. 
p.  87,  /.  12.   more  then  a  treble  share. 

At  this  time  the  actors  did  not  have  regular  salaries,  but  each 
received,  in  accordance  with  his  abilities,  a  certain  proportion 
of  the  profits. 

p.  87,  //.  25-26.  can  to  Brackly  goe, 

To  Lincolne  Race,  and  to  New-Market  too; 
Newmarket  in  Suffolk  has  long  been  famous  for  its  horse- 
races;  formerly  they  were  held  also  at  Brackley  in  Northamp- 


NOTES  357 

tonshire.    "Lincoln  Race"  is  perhaps  that  held  at  Stamford  in 
Lincolnshire. 

p.  87,  /.  34.   Maw,  Gleeke  and  Primero. 

Card  games  popular  at  about  this  period, 
p.  88,  /.  52.   Mezentius  bloody  cruelty. 

This  is  described  by  Vergil,  JEmid,  VIII,  485. 
p.  97.  AN  ELEGIE  UPON  THE  LADY  VENETIA  DIGBY. 

Lady  Digby  was  the  wife  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  and  the 
daughter  of  Sir  Edward  Stanley.  She  died  suddenly  on  May  i, 
1633,  which  fixes  fairly  closely  the  date  of  the  composition  of 
this  poem. 

p.  99.  AN  EPITAPH  UPON  M™  I.  T. 

Mistress  I.  T.  was  in  all  probability  the  wife  of  thel.T.,  A.M., 
who  was  the  author  of  one  of  the  prefatory  poems.  The  latter 
person  seems  to  have  been  Jerameel  Terrent  (see  p.  355). 

p.  102.  AN  EPITAPH  UPON  HIS  HONOUR'D  FRIEND  Mr  WARRE. 

This  is  apparently  the  "much  lamented  Mr.  J.  Warr,"  re- 
ferred to  also  as  "John  Weare  Councellour"  by  Herrick  in  his 
Hespe rides.  He  took  his  B.A.  degree  from  Exeter  College,  Oxford, 
in  1621-22,  and  his  M.A.  in  1624.  In  1627  he  was  a  student  of 
Gray's  Inn,  being  registered  as  the  son  and  heire  of  Edward 
Warre,  of  Chipley  in  Somerset,  Esq.,  but  I  find  no  record  of  him 
after  that  date.  Accounts  differ  as  to  his  age,  but  he  was  born 
some  time  between  1601  and  1605. 

p.  103.    VPON  THE   LOSSE   OF  HIS   LITTLE   FINGER. 

The  circumstances  attending  the  composition  of  this  poem 
are  given  in  the  Introduction,  p.  18.  In  MS.  Malone  14,  in  the 
Bodleian,  there  is  a  reply  to  this  by  some  unknown  author  who 
quotes  the  expression  "pulchrum  est  monstrari  digito,"  which 
was  used  by  Randolph  in  his  Oratio  Pravaricatoria.  As  this 
speech  was  delivered  at  the  Cambridge  Commencement  in  June, 
1632,  it  is  probable  that  the  incident  took  place  after  that  time. 

In  MS.  Ashmole  38  there  is  a  poem  headed  "Mr.  Thomas 
Randall  the  Poett,  his  finger  being  cut  of  by  a  Riotous  Gentle- 
man, his  frinde  Mr  William  Hemminge  made  this  Elegie  on  the 
same."  This  describes,  in  mock  heroic  style,  the  burial  of  the 
finger,  which  was  attended  by  all  the  chief  poets  of  the  time. 


NOTES 

p.  104.  ON  THE  PASSION  OF  CHRIST. 

In  MS.  Egerton  2725,  which  contains  this  poem,  it  is  preceded 
by  the  following  Latin  version. 

In  diem  passionis. 

Quid  templum  abscindit?  quo  luxque  diesque  recessit? 
An  potuit  tenebras  totus  Apollo  habi? 

Astrologi  dubitatec,  fides  ait;  Haud  ita  minim 
Natura  malo  si  sit,  morientec   Deo. 

In  A  collection  of  Select  Epigrams,  published  in  1757  by  John 
Hackett,  there  is  another  version  of  this  poem,  which  may  pos- 
sibly be  the  original  one,  but  is  more  probably  not  authentic 
(Epigram  clxii). 

The  Temple's  Veil  is  rent,  the  Day  is  gone; 

A  sudden  gen'ral  Darkness  hides  the  Sun: 

Why  Nature  thus  shou'd  deviate  from  her  Laws, 

Philosophers  amaz'd  explore  the  Cause. 

Give  o'er  weak  Men;  in  vain  your  Skill  ye  try; 

Nature  must  needs  be  sick,  when  God  can  die. 

p.  104.  NECESSARY  OBSERVATIONS. 

These  "Observations"  were  most  probably  school  exercises 
of  the  young  poet.  See  p.  8. 

p.  113.  A  PLATONICK  ELEGIE. 

This  poem  belongs,  apparently,  to  the  last  year  of  Randolph's 
life.  James  Howell,  writing  on  June  3,  1634,  says:  "The  court 
affords  little  news  at  present,  but  that  there  is  a  love  called 
platonic  love,  which  much  sways  there  of  late  .  .  .  This  love 
sets  the  wits  of  the  town  on  work;  and  they  say  there  will  be 
a  masque  shortly  of  it." 

p.  115.  AN  APOLOGIE  FOR  HIS  FALSE  PREDICTION,  etc. 

This  "Aunt  Lane"  was  some  relative  of  Randolph's  step- 
mother, probably  the  wife  of  Sir  Richard  Lane.  See  p.  5. 

Mdfm  fipurros  8$  rls  fiK&fei  xaXtos. 

This  saying  (in  the  form  M&JTIS  &'  fipwpos  5or«  eucdf«  xaXws) 
is  credited  by  Plutarch  to  Euripides,  but  it  is  not  in  any  of 
his  extant  works. 

p.  IIJ,  /.  6.   Doctor  Lambe. 

Dr.  John  Lambe,  who  was  accused  of  practicing  the  Black 
Art,  was  beaten  to  death  by  a  London  street  mob  in  June,  1628. 


NOTES  359 

p.  115,  /.  8.    Madam  Davers 

Eleanor  Touchet,  wife  of  Sir  John  Davies,  was  the  author  of 
several  fanatical  books  on  prophecy.  She  gained  notice  through 
being  popularly  supposed  to  have  predicted  the  death  of  William 
Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  in  1630. 

p.  116,  /.  35.   Albumazar 

The  Arabic  astrologer  Abu-Maaschar  (805-885) 
p.  1 1 6,  /.  36.   Erra-Pater 

"A  Jew,  born  in  Jewry,  Doctor  of  Astronomy  and  Phywck," 
according  to  the  title-page  of  his  book  of  prophecy.    The  name 
was  sometimes  applied  to  William  Lilly,  the  astrologer, 
p.  1 1 6,  /.  38.   Sbepbeards  Calender. 

For  this  work  see  the  note  on  p.  364. 
p.  117,  /.  55.   Levinus 

Lovinus  Lemnius,  a  Dutch  physician  of  the  Sixteenth  Century 
the  author  of  a  number  of  books.  He  was  a  native  of  Zierikse 
on  the  island  of  Schouwen  in  Zeeland. 

p.  119.  AN  EPITHALAMIUM  TO  Mr  F.  H. 

The  references  in  this  poem  to  Ninus  (the  Nene),  and  Weston 
make  it  clear  that  the  parties  concerned  lived  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Northampton.  At  this  time  there  were  Wards  living  at 
Little  Houghton,  the  home  of  Randolph's  father,  and  there  were 
Harveys  at  Weston  Favell  not  far  away.  (See  the  1619  Visi- 
tation of  Northamptonshire,  pp.  151  &  99.)  In  this  latter  family 
there  were  several  Francis  Harveys,  and  it  is  very  probably 
one  of  these,  the  father  of  the  bride,  who  is  the  "F.H."  and  the 
"Frank"  addressed  here.  It  is  interesting,  though  not  par- 
ticularly significant,  that  Mary  Harvey  of  this  family  married 
Lewis  Atterbury  of  Great  Houghton,  and  that  the  poet's  brother 
William  afterwards  married  their  daughter. 

p.  121,  /.  87.   be  that  awed  the  seas, 

"Captain"  (John?)  Ward,  who  flourished  1601-1615,  wa§  a 
notorious  pirate. 

p.  123.  To  Mr  FELTHAM  ON  HIS  BOOKE  OF  RESOLVES. 

These  Resolves,  a  series  of  moral  essays,  appeared  first  in 
1620  (?),  and  a  Seconde  Centurie  in  1628.  These  two  parts  went 
through  a  number  of  editions,  but  in  none  of  them  that  I  have 
seen  are  Randolph's  verses  printed. 


360  NOTES 

p.  124,  /.  30.    So  Lesbians  by  their  worke  their  rules  doe  frame, 

Aristotle  (Nic.  Eth.  5,  10)  says,  "Of  a  Lesbian  building  the 
rule  is  leaden,  since  the  rule  is  bent  conformable  to  the  figure  of 
the  stone,  and  does  not  remain  the  same." 

p.  128.   IN  NATALEM  AUGUSTISSIMI  PRINCIPIS  CAROLI. 

In  the  original  editions  this  poem  is  preceded  by  four  lines  in 
Latin  of  which  this  is  but  a  paraphrase. 

On  May  13,  1629,  Henrietta  Maria,  Queen  of  Charles  I,  gave 
birth  prematurely  to  her  first  child,  a  boy,  who  died  in  two 
hours.  Her  next  child,  afterwards  Charles  II,  was  born  on  May 
29,  1630. 

p.  129.  AN  ODE  TO  Mr  ANTHONY  STAFFORD  TO  HASTEN  HIM  INTO  THE 

COUNTRY. 

Anthony  Stafford  (1587-1645),  "descended  from  those  of 
that  name  living  in  Blatherwyck,"  was  a  good  scholar,  "well 
read  in  antient  history,  poets  and  other  authors,"  and  was  also 
the  author  of  a  number  of  books. 

p.  129,  /.  16.   Punie  of  the  Innes  of  Court. 

A  recently  admitted  student  or  freshman  at  the  law  schools. 
p.  IJI,  /.  76.  noble  Barkley 

George  Berkeley,  eighth  Baron  Berkeley  (1601-1658),  to 
whom  Stafford  dedicated  his  Guide  of  Honour. 

p.  132.  AN  ANSWER  TO  Mr  BEN  IOHNSON'S  ODE,  etc. 

On  Jan.  19,  1628-9,  Jonson's  play  The  New  Inne  was  acted  at 
the  Blackfriars  Theater  and  was  a  hopeless  failure.  Two  years 
later  Jonson  printed  it  together  with  his  Ode  to  Himself,  which 
had  apparently  been  written  soon  after  the  failure.  (See  Ten- 
nant's  edition  of  the  New  Inne.)  The  Ode  inspired  a  number 
of  answers  besides  this  one  of  Randolph's. 

In  the  Crewe  of  Kind  London  Gossips,  1663,  we  find  "Ben 
Johnson's  Discontented  Soliliqui  upon  the  sinister  censure  of 
his  play,  called  the  New  Inn,  Translated  into  Latin,  and  Answered 
Verse  for  Verse  by  THOMAS  RANDALL,"  and  the  same  thing  occurs 
in  several  of  the  MSS.  in  which  this  poem  appears. 

P-  I33»  I'  34-   what  Broome  swept  from  thee. 

Tennant  has  shown  that  Jonson's  original  version  probably 
read  "Brome's  sweepings,"  and  that  this  was  changed  before 
publication.  Brome,  who  had  been  Jonson's  servant,  produced 
his  Love-sick  Maid  three  weeks  after  the  failure  of  the  Newe  Inne, 
and  it  proved  a  great  success. 


NOTES  361 

p.  133,  /.  49.  the  Palsie 

See  note  on  p.  356. 

p.  140.  To  THE  VERTUOUS  AND  NOBLE  LADY,  THE  LADY  COTTON. 
This  poem  was  first  printed  in  the  Parentalia  (see  Bibliog- 
raphy, Sec.  3.)  in  1635,  and  was    afterwards   included  in  the 
collected  editions  of  the  poems. 

Lady  Cotton,  the  wife  of  Sir  Rowland  Cotton,  was  Jocosa, 
daughter  and  coheiress  of  Richard  Welsh  (or  Walsh)  of  Shal- 
desley  in  the  county  of  Warwick  (1623  Visitation  of  Shropshire, 
p.  155).  Kottas  thinks  that  the  poem  is  addressed  to  the  wife  of 
Sir  Robert  Cotton. 

p.  140.  AN  ELEGIE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ...  SIR  ROWLAND  COTTON, 
etc. 

First  printed  in  the  Parentalia  in  1635.  Sir  Rowland  was 
Sheriff  of  Shropshire  in  1617,  according  to  Fuller,  which  identi- 
fies him  as  the  Rowland  Cotton  of  Alkington,  who  appears  in 
the  1623  Shropshire  Visitation  (p.  155).  The  date  of  his 
death  is  not  given,  but  it  appears  from  Wm.  Strode's  poem  in 
the  Parentalia  that  it  took  place  after  the  death  of  Sir  Robert, 
that  is  after  1631;  it  was  probably  not  long  before  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Parentalia. 

Fuller  says  of  Sir  Rowland,  "Incredible  are  the  most  true 
relations,  which  many  eye-witnesses,  still  alive,  do  make  of  the 
valour  and  Activity  of  this  most  accomplished  Knight.  So 
strong  as  if  he  had  been  nothing  but  bones:  so  nimble  as  if  he 
had  been  nothing  but  sinewes." 

p.  141,  /.  15.   Royall  Henry, 

Henry  Frederick  (1594-1612),  Prince  of  Wales,  oldest  son  of 
James  I. 

p.  144.  AUSONII  EPIGRAM  38. 

In  all  the  editions  of  Ausonius  which  I  have  seen  this  epigram 

is  No.  39. 

p.  145.    VPON   THE   REPORT  OF  THE    KlNG   OF   SwEDENS    DEATH. 

Gustavus  Adolphus  was  slain  in  the  battle  of  Lutzen  on 
Nov.  6,  1632.  James  Howell  writes  to  his  brother  in  the  follow- 
ing month:  "One  Jerbire,  who  says  that  he  was  at  the  very 
action  brought  the  first  news  to  this  town,  and  every  corner 
rings  of  it;  yet  such  is  the  extravagance  of  some,  that  they  will 
lay  wagers  he  is  not  yet  dead,  and  the  Exchange  is  full  of  such 
people." 


362  NOTES 

p.  146,  /.  14.   a  great  and  a  more  holy  warre 

One  of  Gustavus's  reasons  for  attempting  to  "pull  down" 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire  was  that  he  wished  to  secure  relief 
for  his  fellow-Protestants  who  were  oppressed  by  it. 

p.  147.  ON  Sr  ROBERT  COTTON,  THE  ANTIQUARY. 

This  is  Sir  Robert  Bruce  Cotton,  whose  libary  at  Cotton 
House  was  a  meeting-place  for  all  the  scholars  of  the  coun- 
try. Ben  Jonson  was  intimate  with  him  and  often  visited  him. 
Cotton  died  on  May  6,  1631. 

p.  149.    'H  'Ew/>w>Ds  1)  Tolijavs  ft  navucov:  ARIST. 

Aristotle  (Poetics,  Chap.  17)  says:  St6  efo^uow  $  TOM/TU^  ecru* 


p.  I5O.    IN   CORYDONEM    &    CoRINNAM. 

In  the  original  editions  this  title  is  prefixed  to  the  Latin  ver- 
sion which  precedes  these  lines;  the  English  verses  are  headed 
simply  Parapbras'd. 

p.  152.  AN  ECLOGUE  OCCASION'D  BY  TWO  DOCTORS  DISPUTING  UPON 

PREDESTINATION. 

In  the  British  Museum  there  is  a  manuscript  volume  (Harl. 
3357)  which  contains,  among  metrical  translations  of  the  Psalms, 
divine  meditations,  etc.,  a  version  of  this  poem;  it  is  there 
credited  to  "T.  Randolph  gent."  It  differs  considerably  from  the 
version  given  in  the  printed  editions  of  Randolph,  the  speakers 
being  Thyrsis,  Corydon,  Thenot,  and  Colin  Clout.  If  the  date 
1633,  given  in  the  manuscript,  be  correct,  we  must  assume  that 
we  have  here  an  earlier  version  which  Randolph  afterwards 
revised,  for  the  whole  book  is  too  carefully  copied  for  us  to  sup- 
pose the  differences  due  to  pure  carelessness. 

In  the  front  of  the  book  is  the  following  inscription:  "Hen- 
narietta  Holies  her  book  given  her  by  her  father  John  Holies, 
the  last  Duke  of  that  name.  She  married  the  late  Edw.  Harley, 
Ld  Oxford,  son  of  Robert  Harley  first  Ld  of  Oxford  of  that 
family." 

p.  153,  //.  37-38.   In  MS.  Harl.  3357  these  two  lines  read: 

The. 
Doaturd  you  fowle  on  Pans  Omniscience  fall, 

Col. 
Dunce,  you  his  goodness  into  question  call: 


NOTES  363 

p.  156.  AN  ECLOGUE  TO  Mr  IOHNSON. 

In  this  poem  it  seems  tolerably  certain  that  Tityrus  is  in- 
tended to  represent  Jonson,  while  Damon  stands  for  Randolph 
himself. 

p.  162,  /.  168.   Call'd  thence  to  keep  the  flock  of  Corydon. 

This  is  the  passage  upon  which  Fleay  bases  his  conjecture  that 
Randolph  acted  as  assistant  to  the  manager  of  the  company 
playing  at  the  Salisbury  Court  Theater  under  the  name  of 
"Prince  Charles'  Men." 

p.  163,  /.  176.   A  desolation  frights  the  Muses  there! 

It  seems  most  natural  to  refer  this  to  the  plague  which  caused 
the  closing  of  the  university  from  April  to  November,  1630, 
during  which  time  Randolph  was  almost  certainly  in  London. 
In  this  case,  however,  Fleay's  conjecture  cannot  be  correct,  for 
Prince  Charles'  Men  did  not  come  to  Salisbury  Court  until 
January,  1632. 

p.  I7O.    VPON    A   VERY   DEFORMED   GENTLEWOMAN. 

In  MS.  Malone  21  this  is  credited  to  "Dr.  Lewis,"  but  the 
evidence  in  Randolph's  favor  is  overwhelming. 

p.  170,  //.  19,  20.   Gammut,  Ela. 

Gammut  was  the  lowest  tone  in  the  mediaeval  system  as  Ela 
was  the  highest. 

p.  171,  /.  41.    Wbat  but  a  Panther 
See  Pliny,  Nat.  Hist.,  8,  23. 
THE  MILK-MAIDS  EPITHALAMIUM. 

p.  172,  /.  6.    When  I  shall  deal  my  Rosemary. 

Rosemary  was  supposed  to  strengthen  the  memory  and  so 
was  used  at  both  funerals  and  weddings. 

p.  174.     AN   ECLOGUE   ON   THE   NOBLE   ASSEMBLIES   REVIVED  ON 
COTSWOLD  HILLS. 

These  verses  appeared  first  in  the  Annalia  Dubrensia  (see 
bibliography,  Sec.  3,  No.  7),  which  was  licensed  on  Jan.  II, 
1636.  The  poems  in  this  volume,  all  dealing  with  Dover  and  the 
Cotswold  Games,  were  by  various  poets  and  must  have  been 
written  at  different  times,  as  several  of  the  authors  were  dead 
when  the  volume  appeared. 


364  NOTES 

The  collection  has  been  reprinted  by  Grosart  in  Occasional 
Issues,  and  there  is  a  discussion  of  it  in  Anglia  Vol.  12.  For  the 
purposes  of  collation  I  have  used  the  copy  in  the  British  Museum 
which  bears  the  signature  of  Dover  himself. 

According  to  Wood  (Atbenee  4,  222),  the  games  were  begun 
by  Dover  and  by  him  continued  for  forty  years,  being  held  at 
a  certain  time  each  year  on  Cotswold  Hills  in  Gloucestershire. 
They  were  finally  abolished  by  the  Puritans.  The  character  of 
the  sports  held  there  is  made  clear  from  this  poem  of  Randolph's. 

p.  176,  /.  54.   Barley-break,  the  ready  way  to  Hell. 

In  the  game  of  Barley-break  the  middle  inclosure  was  called 
"Hell." 

p.  176,  /.  70.   Did  skirmish  out  a  fight  arm'd  but  with  reeds; 

The  "cane  game,"  or  jousting  with  hollow  canes  instead  of 
lances  was  a  fairly  common  mode  of  amusement;  it  is  said  to 
have  originated  at  Messina  when  Richard  I  was  on  his  way  to 
the  Holy  Land. 

p.  181,  /.  182.   Shepheards  Calendar 

This  work  is  a  translation  of  the  French  Le  compost  et  Kalen- 
drier  des  Bergers,  a  work  very  popular  in  the  Sixteenth  Century; 
most  of  the  editions  contained,  among  other  things,  a  chapter  on 
astrology  and  a  "  Kalender  with  the  figures  of  euery  Saint  that 
is  hallowed  in  the  yeare." 

p.  185.  VPON  LOVE  FONDLY  REFUS'D  FOR  CONSCIENCE  SAKE. 

Samuel  Austin,  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Reader  prefixed  to  his 
Panegyric  Ci66ij,  declares  that  he  intends  to  write  "The 
Authors  answer  to  Mr.  Randolphs  poem  styled,  Love  fondly 
refused  for  Conscience  Sake  &c,"  but  nothing  further  is  known  of 
this  answer. 

POEMS  ADDED  IN  THE   1640  EDITION. 
ON  IMPORTUNATE  DUNNES. 

p.  191,  //.  43-44.   And  'tis  a  second  charge  to  me,  poor  man 
To  make  the  new  born  Babe  a  Christian. 

At  the  time  of  the  christening  it  was  the  custom  to  give  an 
entertainment  at  which  the  guests  not  only  ate  all  they  wished, 
but  from  which  they  carried  away  in  their  pockets  as  much  as 
they  pleased;  at  the  time  of  the  churching  it  was  customary  to 
give  another  large  entertainment. 


NOTES  365 

p.  193.  /.  70.    Use  and  Doctrine 

According  to  Gifford  it  was  the  custom  for  the  Puritan 
preachers  to  divide  their  sermons  into  "doctrine"  and  "use," 
meaning  by  the  former  term  the  subject  under  explanation,  and 
by  the  latter  the  practical  inference  to  be  derived  from  it. 

p.  194,  /.  96.    Trinity  Lecture 

These  lectures  were  given  on  Sunday  afternoons  in  Trinity 
Church,  Cambridge,  by  one  of  the  university  faculty  appointed 
for  that  purpose.  They  were  very  popular  with  the  towns- 
people, and  made  such  an  appeal  to  the  Puritans,  that  Laud 
attempted  to  abolish  them  in  1630,  but  without  success. 

A  CHARACTER. 

p.  195,  /.  28.   Middletons  Mine 

In  1617  Sir  Hugh  Myddleton  or  Middleton  leased  some  aban- 
doned lead  and  silver  mines  in  the  Plynlimmon  district  of  Wales, 
and  after  clearing  them  of  water  made  a  large  sum  of  money  by 
working  them. 

p.  195,  /.  30.   Currantots 

A  kind  of  weekly  newspaper  notorious  for  its  inaccuracy, 
p.  195,  /.  32.   Gallobelgicus 

Mercurius  Gallobelgicus ',  a  kind  of  historical  chronicle  pub- 
lished at  Cologne.  One  of  the  editions  in  the  British  Museum 
has  as  a  sub-title  Rerum  in  Gallia  et  Belgio  .  .  .  ab  anno  1588  (usq. 
ad  nundinas  autumnales  anni  1636)  gestarum. 

p.  196,  //.  41-42.   Celarent,  Ferio,  Baralypton 

Terms  used  by  the  Schoolmen  to  designate  various  forms  of 
syllogisms. 

p.  196.    OK  THE   LOSSE   OF   HIS    FlNGER. 

See  the  note  on  p.  357. 

p.  197.    A   PARANETICON  TO   ...   M.      ENDYMION    PORTER. 

Endymion  Porter  (1587-1649)  was  Groom  of  the  Bed-Cham- 
ber to  Prince  Charles  and  also  held  various  public  offices.  He 
wrote  poetry  himself  and  was  the  friend  and  patron  of  poets. 

p.  197,  /.  1 1 .    The  bright  soul  that's  fled. 

Apparently  a  reference  to  the  death  of  Prince  Henry  which 
occurred  in  1612. 


366  NOTES 

p.  200.  ON  six  MAIDS  BATHING  THEMSELVES  IN  A  RIVER. 

In  the  Scattergood  MS.,  formerly  in  the  Huth  collection,  this 
poem  is  headed,  "On  6  Cambridge  Maids  bathing  themselves  by 
Queen's  Coll."  and  the  date  is  given  as  June  15,  1629.  From 
this  manuscript  Hazlitt  has  added  two  lines  not  found  in  the 
printed  copies,  and  I  have  followed  him  in  this  (//.  35-36). 

p.  2OO,  /.  8.   Clalia 

Cloelia  was  a  Roman  virgin  who  was  given  as  a  hostage  to 
Porsena;  with  nine  of  her  companions  she  escaped  and,  pursued 
by  the  Etruscans,  swam  across  the  Tiber  to  safety. 

Livy,  2,  13. 

p.  20 1,  /.  48.    Tiberius  eye 

Suetonius  tells  us  that  the  eyes  of  Tiberius,  which  were  larger 
had  a  wonderful  faculty  for  seeing  in  the  night-time  and  in  the 
dark.  Life  of  Tiberius,  68. 

p.  205.  To  M.  I.  S.  ON  HIS  GRATEFULL  SERVANT. 

These  lines  were  prefixed  to  the  1637  edition  of  Shirley's 
Gratefull  Servant,  and  were  reprinted  in  the  1640  edition  of 
Randolph's  Poems. 


POEMS  NOT  IN  ANY   OF  THE  COLLECTED  EDITIONS. 

p.  209.  THE  TOWNS-MENS  PETITION  OF  CAMBRIDGE. 

Although  this  poem  is  not  in  any  of  the  early  editions  of 
Randolph's  collected  works  and  the  earliest  ascription  of  it  to 
him  is  in  1662,  there  can  be  little  doubt  of  its  authenticity.  Not 
only  is  it  quite  in  his  style  but  it  also  deals  with  an  event  which 
occurred  while  he  was  at  Cambridge. 

On  Sept.  i,  1629,  John  Shirwood,  who  was  at  that  time  mayor 
of  the  town  of  Cambridge,  was  discommoned  by  the  University 
for  interfering  with  the  punishment  of  three  chandlers  whom  the 
University  had  found  guilty  of  selling  candles  to  the  students 
at  a  price  above  that  fixed  by  its  own  officers.1  Shirwood  made 
three  different  trips  to  London  to  put  the  townsmen's  side  of  the 
case  before  the  king,2  complaining,  a§  we  learn  from  the  answer 
of  the  University3  to  his  plea  that  he  had  been  used  "as  no 


(1)  Baker  MS.  25,  259.     Quoted  by  Cooper,  Annals  8,  285. 

(2)  Accounts  of  the  Treasurers  of  the  Town,  5  &  6  Car.  I.     Quoted  by  G 
Annals  3,  320. 

(3)  Domestic  papers,  Charles  I,  Dec.  4,  1629.     Cooper  mentions  another  answer 
of  the  University  (dated  Oct.  6,  1629)  which  is  now  in  the  Downing  College  Library. 


xx>per, 

'er 


NOTES  367 

mayor  was  ever  used  before."  The  king,  by  an  Order  of  Council 
dated  Dec.  4,  ordered  the  townsmen  to  pay  the  fines  imposed 
upon  them  by  the  University,  and  to  "make  public  confession 
in  the  V.  Chan*,  court  of  their  fault  in  breaking  the  said  rates  & 
prices  so  set,  &  refusing  to  pay  the  fines  assessed  upon  them,  & 
questioning  the  Priviliges  of  the  University."  l  I  think  it  quite 
clear  that  the  poem  alludes  to  this  dispute  and  to  the  humilia- 
tion of  the  townspeople  which  resulted. 

p.  213,  /.  131.    They' I  have  the  Town  made  a  City, 

There  had  been  considerable  agitation  to  this  effect  not  long 
before  this  time. 

p.  213.  ON  THE  FALL  OF  THE  MITRE  TAVERN  IN  CAMBRIDGE. 

This  poem  likewise  is  not  in  the  collected  editions,  yet  there 
is  little  doubt  of  its  authenticity.  Three  early  commonplace 
books  which  I  have  seen  (MSS.  Rawl.  62,  d  108,  and  d  1092)  all 
credit  it  to  Randolph;  Dr.  Bliss  had  a  fourth  in  his  own  collec- 
tion, and  Hazlitt  mentions  still  another  in  the  Huth  Library. 
In  the  copies  which  I  have  seen  the  division  into  stanzas  is  in 
each  case  indicated,  so  that  in  this  matter  I  have  departed  from 
the  printed  text. 

The  Mitre  Tavern,  which  stood  on  the  south  end  of  the  site 
now  occupied  by  the  screen  of  King's  College,  fell  down  in  1633, 
or  thereabouts;  it  was  subsequently  rebuilt. 

p.  214,  /.  5.    The  dismal  fire  of  London-Bridge 

During  the  night  of  the  I3th  of  February,  1632-33,  forty- 
three  of  the  houses  on  the  Bridge  were  consumed  by  a  fire  which 
broke  out  at  about  eleven  o'clock  and  raged  until  eight  in  the 
morning, 
p.  214,  /.  20.   Pembrook's  Cardinals  Cap. 

The  tavern  called  the  Cardinal's  Cap,  stood  nearly  opposite 
Pembroke  Hall,  occupying  a  portion  of  the  site  upon  which  the 
Pitt  Press  has  since  been  erected, 
p.  214,  /.  24.    the  Crown. 

The  Crown  was  another  Cambridge  tavern  of  the  period,  as 
were  the  Rose,  Falcon  and  Dolphin  mentioned  below. 

p.  215,  /.  37.   Eaton-conjurers 

Until   comparatively   recently,   King's  College  was  what  is 
known  as  a  "close  college"  for  Eton;    that  is,  all  of  the  fellow- 
ships, scholarships,  etc.,  were  open  only  to  graduates  of  that 
school,  and  most  of  the  students  in  the  college  were  Eton  men. 
(i)  Quoted  by  Dyer,  Priviligts  I,  141. 


368  NOTES 

p.  216.  ANNAGRAM.    VIRTUE  ALONE  THY  BLISSE. 

The  ascription  of  this  poem,  and  the  two  which  follow,  to 
Randolph  rests,  in  each  case,  upon  the  authority  of  a  single  manu- 
script. This  is  scanty  evidence  upon  which  to  attribute  any 
work  to  a  given  author,  yet  in  both  subject  matter  and  style 
they  so  closely  resemble  the  undisputed  work  of  Randolph  (the 
third  not  quite  so  closely  as  the  other  two)  that  in  the  absence 
of  any  other  claimant  for  them  I  think  that  they  should  be 
credited  to  him. 

p.  219.  EPIGRAM. 

This  is  from  a  manuscript  which  I  have  not  seen  and  I  have 
been  forced  to  follow  Hazlitt's  transcription  of  it,  which  is  prob- 
ably only  approximately  correct.  Considerable  doubt  is  cast 
upon  the  authenticity  of  this  poem  by  the  fact  that  the  other 
epigram  printed  by  Hazlitt  from  the  same  manuscript  is  by  Ben 
Jonson.  In  the  absence  of  definite  evidence  to  the  contrary, 
however,  I  have  thought  it  best  to  include  this  among  the  poems 
of  Randolph. 

p.  219  [To  RICHARD  WESTON.} 

In  the  British  Museum  copy  where  this  poem  is  found  it  is 
preceded  by  the  following  Latin  verses: 
vir  durus  ac  honestus 
Richardus  Westonus 
vir  Durus  ac  Comus 

Te  licet  Durum  vocal  ac  honestum 
nominis  felix  annagramma  vestri 
sis  tamen  quaeso  mihi  miti  durus 

valde  et  honestus. 

I  have  been  unable  to  identify  the  particular  Richard  Weston 
to  whom  the  poem  is  addressed. 

p.  219.    A   LETTER  TO   HIS   MlSTRESSE. 

While  this  poem  may  not  be  by  Randolph  (although  I  myself 
believe  that  it  is)  it  is  certain  that  the  scribe  who  compiled  the 
volume  thought  it  his.  The  names  Randolph  and  Randall  were 
almost  interchangeable  at  this  period;  the  poet  himself  was 
often  called  Randall,  while  his  brother  Robert  took  his  B.A. 
as  Randolph  but  his  M.A.  as  Randall. 

p.  220.  THE  CHARACTER  OF  A  PERFECT  WOMAN. 

The  ascription  of  this  poem  to  "T.R."  in  the  midst  of  a  group 
of  Randolph's  poems  shows  that  the  scribe  believed  it  his,  and 


NOTES  369 

merely  used  this  form  of  abbreviation,  as  in  other  cases  we 
find  "T.  Rand:"  etc.,  in  places  where  the  name  has  already 
been  given  in  full.  I  think  that  the  poem  shows  clear  traces  of 
Randolph's  hand,  although  its  authenticity  is  by  no  means 
beyond  question.  The  text  as  it  stands  is  very  corrupt;  in  a 
number  of  cases  the  real  meaning  is  quite  obvious  but  I  have 
preferred  to  reproduce  the  poem  exactly  as  it  stands  in  the 
manuscript,  giving  in  the  foot-notes  such  conjectural  emend- 
ations as  to  my  mind  admit  of  no  question.  In  case  of  doubt  I 
have  preferred  to  let  each  reader  settle  the  question  for  himself. 

p.  224.  AD  AMICAM. 

The  external  evidence  for  attributing  this  poem  to  Randolph 
is  slight  indeed,  yet  it  is  so  very  much  in  his  style  that  in  the 
absence  of  any  other  claimant  I  feel  justified  in  crediting  it  to 
him.  It  is  found  in  MS.  Tanner  465,  where  it  is  credited  to 
"T.  R."  This  MS.  contains  but  one  other  poem  by  Randolph, 
and  that  is  in  another  part  of  the  volume,  yet  Randolph  was 
undoubtedly  the  best  known  T.  R.  of  the  period  and  it  seems 
more  than  likely  that  he  is  the  person  meant;  the  Bodleian  cata- 
logue ascribes  it  to  him  without  hesitation. 

Another  version  (unsigned)  of  this  poem  is  written  in  the 
back  of  the  volume  of  Various  Poems  numbered  c-2^i  in  the 
British  Museum.  In  1874  Furnivall  reprinted  this  for  the  Bal- 
lad Society  among  Love  Poems  and  Humourous  Ones. 

p.  224.  [ON  THE  BOOK  FISH.] 

"It  must  not  be  forgotten,  how  during  my  abode  in  Cam- 
bridge on  Mid-summer  Eve,  1626,  a  Book  was  found  in  the  belly 
of  a  Cod  (brought  into  the  Market  to  be  sold)  containing  therein 
three  Treatises,  whereof  the  first  and  largest  was  entituled,  A 
Preparation  to  the  Crosse.  It  was  wrapped  about  with  Canvass, 
and  probably  that  voracious  Fish  plundered  both  out  of  the 
pocket  of  some  Sbip-wrackfd  Seaman.  The  Wits  of  the  Univer- 
sity made  themselves  merry  thereat,  one  making  a  long  copy  of 
Verses  thereon,  whereof  this  Dystick  I  remember 

*  Tho.  *  //  Fishes,"  etc. 

Randolph.  Fuller    Worthies,    1662.    p.    359,    under 

Richard  Tracey  of  Gloucestershire. 

p.  224.  ON  Mr  PARSON  ORGANIST  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBYE. 

This  is  the  epitaph  placed  upon  Parsons'  tomb  in  the  cloistew 
of  Westminster  Abbey;  its  ascription  to  Randolph  apparently 
rests  solely  upon  the  authority  of  MS.  Ashmole  38,  which  is  not 


370  NOTES 

always  accurate  in  its  attributions.  The  claim  of  Camden  to 
it,  which  has  been  advanced,  rests  upon  no  ground  whatever, 
since  he  expressly  states  that  he  is  quoting  it  from  some  "  modern 
wit."  It  was  probably  written  soon  after  the  death  of  Parsons, 
which  occurred  early  in  1623;  at  this  time  Randolph  was  still 
at  Westminster  School. 

p.  225.  [EPITAPH  ON  WILLIAM  LAWRENCE.] 

"Dr.  Busby,  schoolmaster  of  Westminster,  was  Tom  Ran- 
dolph's school-fellow  and  coetanean,  and  sayth  that  he  made 
these  verses  —  'Tis  his  vaine:  — " 

Aubrey,  Life  of  Randolph, 

This  epitaph  was  placed  over  the  tomb  of  Lawrence,  which  is 
in  the  North  walk  of  the  cloisters  at  Westminster  Abbey.  Law- 
rence died  on  Dec.  28,  1621. 

p.  225.   RANDOLPH  HIS  ANSWER  TO  SOME  MERRY  COMPANION. 

Henry  Oxinden  of  Barham  gives  the  following  in  his  common- 
place-book, 1647  (I  quote  Hazlitt's  transcription):  "Several 
wits  being  a  drinking  together,  hearing  that  Randolph  the  poet 
was  in  the  house,  being  desirous  to  make  sport  with  him,  sent 
for  him  into  their  company.  Randolph  came  to  them:  they  in 
their  discourse  propounded  who  was  the  best  poet,  so  one  said 
Virgil,  another  Horace,  another  Ovid,  &c.  and  gave  their  reasons. 
Randolph,  being  demanded  his  opinion,  said  he  thought  the 
sweet  singer  of  Israel  the  best.  They  asked  him  why?  He  said 
because  — 

'From  all  the  ills,'"  etc. 

p.  225.  [RANDOLPH'S  ANSWER  TO  THE  "SONS  OF  BEN."] 

For  Winstanley's  account  of  the  circumstances  attending  the 
production  of  this  poem  see  the  introduction,  p.  13. 

p.  226.   PRJELUDIUM. 

I  have  compared  the  indorsement  on  the  MS.  with  other 
papers  which  are  known  to  be  by  Clarendon,  and  the  handwriting 
seems  to  be  the  same.  Clarendon  was  a  friend  of  Jonson's,  and 
was  in  London  at  the  time  Randolph  was  there,  so  that  it  is 
more  than  likely  that  they  knew  each  other,  but  of  this  there  is 
no  proof.  (The  Edward  Hide  whose  verses  were  prefixed  to  the 
Jealous  Lovers  is  almost  certainly  the  one  who  entered  Trinity 
College  from  Westminster  in  1625.)  If  Clarendon's  note  be  cor- 
rect I  can  see  but  two  possible  explanations  of  it.  One  is  that 
Randolph  wrote  the  prologue  for  some  revival  of  Fletcher's  Wo- 
man Hater  (called  also  the  Hungry  Courtier  in  the  1649  edition) 


NOTES  371 

of  which  we  have  no  record.  It  is  quite  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  that  some  such  revival  took  place  before  Randolph's 
death,  and  that  the  secondary  title  was  given  it  at  this  time, 
but  the  prologue  seems  hardly  appropriate  to  this  play. 

The  more  likely  explanation  is  that  it  was  written  by  some  one 
else  for  a  performance  of  one  of  Randolph's  plays,1  given  in  all 
probability  subsequent  to  the  closing  of  the  theaters.  (The  lean 
times  referred  to  may,  of  course,  be  merely  one  of  the  times  when 
the  theaters  were  closed  because  of  the  plague.)  In  that  case  the 
name  "Hungry  Courtier"  was  chosen  simply  for  its  appropriate- 
ness, without  regard  to  any  play  actually  in  existence.  The 
language  of  this  prologue  sounds  much  more  like  a  burlesque  of 
Randolph's  style  than  like  his  own  serious  work. 

p.  231.  [THE  CITY  OF  LONDON.] 

The  fact  that  the  name  "Randall"  was  evidently  added  in 
the  margin  at  some  time  after  the  rest  of  the  page  was  written 
is  in  itself  suspicious;  this  taken  in  conjunction  with  the  fact 
that  in  none  of  the  poems  unquestionably  his  does  Randolph 
use  a  metre  prevailingly  dactylic  makes  me  quite  certain  that 
the  poem  is  not  by  him.  The  events  referred  to  in  the  poem  would 
also  seem  to  point  to  a  date  later  than  Randolph's  death.  Since, 
however,  I  cannot  assign  it  to  any  other  author  I  have  thought 
it  better  to  include  it  here  among  the  doubtful  poems. 

NOTES  ON  THE  AMYNTAS. 

The  Latin  quotation  on  the  tide-page  is  from  Virgil,  Eclogue 
VI,  tt.  4-S- 

ACT  I. 

Sc.  ii,  //.  47-48.  Other  Nymphs 

(p.  243)  Have  their  varietie  of  loves,  for  every  gown, 
Probably  an  echo  of  Guarini's 

"Corisca,  mi  dicea,  si  vuole  appunto 
Far  degli  amanti  quel  che  della  vesti: 
Molti  averne,  un  goderne,  e  cangiar  spesso;" 

Pastor  Fido,  I,  iii. 
Sc.  v,  /.  103.   Ompha 
(P-  255) 

A  word  apparently  coined  by  Randolph  from  the  Greek, 
6n<tfl,  a  divine  voice  or  prophecy;  he  may  also  have  associated 
with  it  the  Delphic  6/i<£aX6s. 

(l)  Compare  especially  with  this  prologue  the  Jealous  Lovers,  III,  iv  v,  &  and 
the  Hey  for  Honesty,  IV,  i. 


372  NOTES 

ACT  II. 

Sc.  iii,  /.  34.   copple  crotone 
(p.  266) 

A  crest  or  tuft  of  feathers  on  a  bird's  head. 
/.  35.     tbiy'l  —  ly. 

An    allusion  to  the    lapwing's  wily  methods  of  drawing    a 
stranger  away  from  its  nest. 
Sc.  vi,  /.  28.     Spanish  needles. 
(p.  278) 

At  this  period  the  best  needles  still  were,  as  they  long  had 
been,  imported  from  Spain. 
/.  36.     so,  bo,  bo. 

"So  ho"  was  the  call  used  to  direct  the  dogs  when  they  were 
hunting  the  hare. 

ACT  III. 

Sc.  i,  /.  62.     Pelian  speare 
(p.  286) 

Compare  this  with  the  "Pelias  hasta"  of  Ovid,  the  spear  of 
Achilles  cut  on  Mount  Pelion. 
Sc.  ii,  /.  75.     Lylibaan  mountaines 
(p.  290) 

Lilybaeum,  the  modern  Marsala,  is  a  town   in   the  western 
part  of  Sicily. 
Sc.  iii,  //.  26-41.      Start  unkennel  spring 

Amyntas  uses  of  the  oracle  the  terms  applied  to  various  kinds 
of  game  by  the  hunters;   they  spoke  of  "starting"  a  hare,  "un- 
kennelling" a  fox,  and  "springing"  a  bird. 
Sc.  v,  /.  70.  Ti-ti-ta-tif 

(P-  3°i) 

These  same  words  are  used  by  the  pseudo-fairies  in  the  Al- 
chemist when  they  impose  upon  Dapper:  Gifford  supposes  them 
to  be  merely  a  hint  to  the  performers  to  use  some  strange  and 
inarticulate  jargon. 

ACT  IV. 

Sc.  i,  /.  18.  Carduus  Benedictus 

(p.  3°6) 

The  plant  known  as  the  Blessed  Thistle,  which  Dodoens  in 
his  Herbal  says  "is  given  with  great  profile  against  the  pesti- 
lence"; Dragon  water  was  another  popular  remedy. 


NOTES  373 

Sc.  viii,  //.  33-34.        And  by  the  womb  that  bare  tbee,  by  the  breasts 
(p.  322)  Of  thy  dead  mother,  Lalage 

These  lines  are  taken  over  almost  verbatim  from  the  "Jealous 
Lovers,  II,  ix. 

Sc.  ix,  /.  38.     bearb  Solstitial 

(P-  327) 

This  is  from  Plautus  (Pseudolus  I,  I,  36-37) 
"Quasi  solstitialis  herba  paulisper  fui: 

Repente  exortus  sum,  repentino  occidi." 
but  what  plant  he  means  by  it  is  unknown. 


ACT  V. 

Sc.  iv,  /.  2.     bear  the  bell  away 

(P-  334) 

To  be  successful  over,  to  take  precedence  of.  It  is  supposed 
that  this  meaning  of  the  expression  arose  from  the  custom  of 
giving  little  golden  bells  as  prizes  in  the  horse-races. 


APPENDIX 

Variations,  too  unimportant  for  mention  in  the  foot-note*, 
between  the  1638  text  of  the  Amyntas  and  that  given  in  this 
volume. 

ACT  I 

Sc.  i.   From  /.  46  to  the  end  of  the  scene  the  capital  D's  in  the  itali- 
cized words  are  in  roman  type. 
Sc.  ii.    From  /.  7  to  /.  22  the  L's  and  in  /.  31  the  D's  in  italicized  words 

are  roman. 
Sc.  iii.   From  /.  81  to  the  end  of  the  scene  (except  in  II.  gi  &  94), 

the  I's,  when  standing  alone,  are  italic. 
Sc.  iv.   In  this  scene  all  the  I's  are  italic,  and  from  /.  4  to  the  end  all 

the  D's  in  italicized  words  are  roman. 
Sc.  v.   In  //.  2  to  10,  and  36  to  75  the  I's  are  italic;   in  //.    6,  9,  16, 

and  28  the  D's,  and  in  //.  50,  63,  68,  73,  75,  83,  and  86  the  L's, 

in  italicized  words  are  roman. 
Sc.  vi.   In  /.  26,  and  /.  44  to  the  end  of  the  scene  the  I's  are  italic; 

in  /.  14  the  small  i  in  pity  is  also  italic.    In  //.  12,  15,  32,  and  /. 

37  to  the  end  the  L's,  and  in  //.  1-19,  38-50,  and  60  to  the  end 

the  D's  are  roman  in  italicized  words. 

ACT  II 

Sc.  ii.   /.  47,  Corymbus 
Sc.  iii.   /.  39,  ditto 
Sc.  iv.   In  //.  34,  35,  and  38  the  I's  are  italic,  and  in  //.  7  and  9,  and 

60  to  94  the  V's  in  italicized  words  are  roman. 
Sc.  v.    In  //.  16-29  the  I's  are  italic;   from  the  beginning  to  /.  31  the 

A's  in  italicized  words  are  roman. 
Sc.  vi.    In  /.  17  the  I  is  italic;   from    /.  40    to  the  end  the  D's    in 

italicized  words  are  roman. 
Sc.  vii.  Throughout  the  scene  the  D's,  and  from  /.  32  to  the  end  the 

A's,  in  italicized  words,  are  roman;  in  /.  56  the  I  of  In  is  italic. 

ACT  III 

Sc.  i.  All  the  I's  as  far  as  /.  56  are  italic;  throughout  the  scene  the 
D's,  and  as  far  as  /.  43  the  A's  (except  in  /.  36),  in  the  italicized 
words,  are  roman. 

375 


376  APPENDIX 

Sc.  ii.  In  italicized  words  the  D's  and  L's  as  far  as  /.  57  are  roman, 
as  are  the  A's  in  //.  45  and  59.  The  I  in  /.  58  is  italic. 

Sc.  iii.  The  I's  in  //.  19-57  (except  /.  44),  77,  111-124  and  167  to  the 
end  of  the  scene  are  italic;  so  also  is  the  first  y  in  /.  100.  In 
//.  58,  59,  86,  and  87  the  L's  are  roman,  as  is  the  C  in  the  margin 
opposite  /.  46. 

Sc.  iv.  In  //.  1-29  the  I's  are  italic. 

ACT  IV 

Sc.  ii.  The  I's  in  //.  3,  7,  and  n  (the  first)  are  italic;  the  E  in  /.  25 

is  roman. 

Sc.  iii.  The  I's  in//.  15,  18  and  19  are  italic. 
Sc.  v.   The  I's  from  /.  41  to  the  end  of  the  scene  (except  /.  54)  are 

italic;    the  D's  in  //.  25-50,  62,  and  68-73,  an^  tne  L  m  ^  5^» 

are  roman. 
Sc.  vi.  The  I's  in  //.  ii,  25  (the  second),  48,  and  57  are  italic;   the 

D's  from  /.  I  to  the  end  of  the  scene,  and  the  A's  in  //.  44  and 

62  are  roman  in  the  italicized  words. 
Sc.  vii.   The  I's  in  //.  3  and  6  are  italic;    the  A's  in  //.  4  and  6  are 

roman. 
Sc.  ix.   The  D  in  /.  19  is  roman,  as  are  the  j's  in  /.  32. 

ACT  V 

Sc.  ii.   The  I  in  /.  28  is  italic. 
Sc.  v.   The  C's  in  //.  16  and  18  are  roman. 

Sc.  vi.  The  I's  in  the  italicized  words  in  //.  *2,  30,  47,  51,  64,  and  69 
are  roman. 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 

PAGE 

A  freind  is  gold;  if  true  heele  never  leave  thee, 105 

Ah  wretch  in  thy  Corinna's  love  unblest! 150 

Although  your  Lordshipps  happy  annagram 219 

Apelles  curious  eye  must  gaze  upon 220 

Are  then  the  Sibils  dead?  what  is  become 115 

Arise,  come  forth,  but  never  to  return 202 

Arithmetique  nine  digits,  and  no  more 103 

As  once  in  blacke  I  disrespected  walk't 218 

Beauty  it  selfe  lyes  here,  in  whom  alone, 98 

Behold  these  woods,  and  mark  my  Sweet 163 

Ben  doe  not  leave  the  stage 132 

Be  well  advis'd,  and  wary  counsell  make, 105 

Blisse  court  thee  sweetest  soule,  and  fall  soe  thick 217 

Come  spurre  away, 129 

Coy  Coelia  dost  thou  see 137 

Death  passing  by,  and  hearing  parsons  play 224 

Death,  who'ld  not  change  prerogatives  with  thee, 97 

Defend  the  truth,  for  that  who  will  not  dye, 104 

Descent  of  birth  is  a  vaine  good 216 

Desire  not  thy  mean  fortunes  for  to  set 107 

Each  man  three  Divils  hath,  selfe  borne  afflictions; 108 

Faire  Lady  when  you  see  the  Grace IS1 

Fam'd  Stymphall,  I  have  heard,  thy  birds  in  flight 88 

First  thinke,  and  if  thy  thoughts  approve  thy  will 106 

First  worship  God,  he  that  forgets  to  pray 104 

Fly  Drunkennesse,  whose  vile  incontinence no 

Franke,  when  this  Morne  the  harbinger  of  day 119 

From  all  the  ills  that  I  have  done,  Lord,  quit  me  out  of  hand,.  225 

From  witty  men  and  mad *47 


380  INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

Goe  bashful  Muse,  thy  message  is  to  one 197 

Goe  happy  Paper  by  Command, 219 

Goe  solitary  wood,  and  henceforth  be 145 

Goe  sordid  earth,  and  hope  not  to  bewitch 67 

Haile  sacred  Deserts,  whom  kind  nature  made 181 

Happy  the  man  that  all  his  dayes  hath  spent 94 

Happy  the  man  which  farre  from  city  care; 95 

Heare  much  but  little  speake,  a  wise  man  feares 109 

Heavens  decreed,  before  the  world  begun, 219 

Heav'n  knowes  my  Love  to  thee,  fed  on  desires 147 

He  is  a  Paricide  to  his  mother's  name, 203 

Here  lyes  the  knowing  head,  the  honest  heart, 102 

Ho!  Histrio!    I  thought  a  presse  had  swallowed  you  all,  .    .    .  226 

Ho  jolly  Thirsis  whither  in  such  hast? 152 

Honour  the  King,  as  sonnes  their  Parents  doe 104 

Honour  thy  Parents  to  prolong  thine  end, 104 

How  many  of  thy  Captives  (Love)  complaine 78 

How  much  more  blest  are  trees  than  men, 196 

I  cannot  fulminate  or  tonitruate  words 205 

I  chanc'd  sweet  Lesbia's  voice  to  heare, 170 

If  e're  I  take  a  wife  I  will  have  one 112 

If  Fishes  thus  do  bring  us  Books,  then  we 224 

If  thou  dispraise  a  man  let  no  man  know, 106 

If  with  a  stranger  thou  discourse  first  learne 106 

I  John  Bo  Peep,  to  you  four  sheep, 225 

I'le  not  beleive't;  if  fate  should  be  so  crosse 145 

In  this  unconstant  Age  when  all  mens  minds 123 

I  was  not  borne  to  Helicon,  nor  dare 84 

I  wonder  not  my  Laeda  farre  can  see, 139 

I  wonder  what  should  Madam  Lesbia  meane 86 

love  saw  the  Heavens  fram'd  in  a  little  glasse, 90 

loy  to  the  Bridegroome  and  the  Bride 172 

ludge  not  between  two  freinds,  but  rather  see no 

Keepe  thy  freinds  goods;  for  should  thy  wants  be  known,    .    .  106 

Lament,  lament,  ye  Scholars  all, 213 

Let  Linus  and  Amphions  lute, 138 

Let  not  thy  Impotent  lust  so  pow'rfull  bee 112 

Love,  give  me  leave  to  serve  thee,  and  be  wise 113 


INDEX   OF   FIRST  LINES  381 

PACE 

Mvse  be  a  bride-maid,  dost  not  heare loo 

Mvsick  thou  Queene  of  soules,  get  up  and  string 138 

My  Lalage  when  I  behold 134 

Nature,  Creations  law,  is  judg'd  by  sense 185 

Now  Scholars,  look  unto  it, 209 

O  fortunate  Citie  rejoyce  in  thy  Fate 231 

Posterity  hath  many  fates  bemoan'd 147 

Pox  take  you  all,  from  you  my  sorrows  swell 191 

Pvrse,  who'l  not  know  you  have  a  Poets  been 183 

Reader  if  thou  hast  a  teare, 99 

Reprove  not  in  their  wrath  incensed  men, 107 

Rich  as  was  Cottons  worth,  I  wish  each  line; 140 

Safe  in  thy  brest  close  lock  up  thy  Intents; 105 

Seeme  not  too  conscious  of  thy  worth,  nor  be 107 

Shee  which  would  not  I  would  choose: 144 

So  Hue  with  man  as  if  Gods  curious  eye, 108 

Spare  in  thy  youth,  least  Age  should  find  thee  poore no 

Spare  not,  nor  spend  too  much;  be  this  thy  care, 106 

Suspicious  men  thinke  others  false,  but  hee 105 

Swear  not;  An  oath  is  like  a  dangerous  dart 105 

Sweet,  doe  not  thy  beauty  wrong 224 

Sweet,  heard  you  not  fames  latest  breath  rehearse 199 

Sweet  Lydia  take  this  maske,  and  shroud 182 

Take  thou  no  care  how  to  deferre  thy  death 108 

Take  well  what  e're  shall  chance,  though  bad  it  bee; 105 

Thanke  those  that  doe  thee  good,  so  shall  thou  gaine    ....  105 

The  law's  the  path  of  life;  then  that  obey, 105 

There  are  who  know  what  once  to  day  it  was; 198 

These  are  things  that  being  possest 139 

The  spring  was  come,  and  all  the  fields  growne  fine; 73 

Thinke  that  is  just;  'tis  not  enough  to  doe, 104 

Thou  Cozen  to  great  Madams  and  allyed 194 

Thy  credit  wary  keepe, 'tis  quickly  gone; no 

Thy  first  birth  Mary  was  unto  a  tombe, 128 

Tis  not  to  force  more  teares  from  your  sad  eye, 14° 

To  all  alike  be  curteous,  meeke,  and  kind, 109 

To  doubtfull  matters  doe  not  headlong  run; 105 


383  INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

To  gather  wealth  through  fraud  doe  not  presume, 106 

To  tell  thy  miseries  will  no  comfort  breed, 106 

Trust  not  a  man  unknown  he  may  deceive  thee 109 

Vnder  this  beech  why  sit'st  thou  here  so  sad 156 

Vnto  thy  Brother  buy  not,  sell,  nor  lend, no 

What  Clod-pates,  Thenot,  are  our  Brittish  swains? 174 

What  rends  the  temples  vail,  where  is  day  gone? 104 

When  age  hath  made  me  what  I  am  not  now; 128 

When  bashful  Day-light  now  was  gone, 200 

Who  in  the  world  with  busy  reason  pryes, 91 

Why  sigh  you  swain  ?  this  passion  is  not  common; 136 

With  diligence  and  trust  most  exemplary 225 

Wonder  not  friend  that  I  do  entertain 205 

Would  you  commence  a  Poet  Sr,  and  be 149 


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